•nature  fits  all  bet  cbilfcren  witb  something  to  So, 
t>e  wbo  would  write  anO  can't  write,  can  surely  review; 
Can  set  up  a  email  bootb  as  critic,  anO  sell  us  bis 
petti?  conceit  anO  bis  pettB  jealousies. 

— Xowdl. 


WHAT  NEXT? 


OR, 


The  Honest  Thief, 


BY 


J.  T.  PATTERSON. 


p. 


PRESS         OF 

TRANSYLVANIA        PRINTING       CO. 

LEXI  NGTON  ,        KY. 

1899, 


WHAT    NEXT? 

OR 

• 

THE  HONEST  THIEF. 


•'It  is.  indeed,  a  blessing,  when  th'  virtues 
Of  noble  races  are  hereditary; 
And  do  derive  themselves  from  the  imitation 
Of  virtuous  ancestors." 

CHAPTER  I. 

WfN  the  year  of  1769  the  first  foot-print  of  a  white  man 
•I  was  made  within  the  present  precincts  of  Kentucky. 
Daniel  Boone,  a  daring  hunter  and  solicitous  ex 
plorer,  was  the  first  Anglo-Saxon  whose  eyes  feasted 
themselves  upon  the  superlative  sylvan  grandeur,  the 
ideal  landscapes,  the  undulating  hills  and  the  purling 
brooks  of  a  country  which  was,  as  yet,  a  part  of  the 
old  Commonwealth  of  Virginia.  Charmed  as  he 
necessarily  was,  with  a  land  that  possessed  so  rnanj' 
attractions,  as  well  as  so  many  natural  advantages,  it 
is  not  at  all  strange  that  this  daring  pioneer,  who  had 
been  accustomed  to  a  life  in  the  woods,  even  while  a 
boy,  amid  the  hills  of  Pennsylvania,  should  have  been 
enamored  of  what  he  beheld  in  Kentucky. 

As  a  wanderer  from  North  Carolina,  the  State  of  his 
adoption,  in  that  somewhat  far  away  time,  although 
his  lonely  peregrinations  were  through  the  less  favored 


4  WHAT  NEXT? 

region  of  a  country  that  was  full  of  charming  attrac 
tions  for  him,  Boone  seemed  to  have  conceived  the 
idea  that  the  newly  discovered  land  would  be  a  much 
more  delightful  place  in  which  to  live  than  his  home 
on  the  Yadkin. 

Returning  to  North  Carolina,  after  a  most  marvelous 
absence  from  his  family,  his  surroundings  considered, 
he  bore  with  him  such  a  glowing  account  of  the  country 
through  which  he  had  traveled,  that  it  was  a  compar 
atively  short  time  until  Knox,  Galloway,  Kenton  and 
others  had  taken  up  their  line  of  march  to  what  they 
supposed  would  prove  to  be  for  them  the  North 
American  Eldorado. 

Few  enterprises  are  undertaken,  in  which  there  is  the 
necessity  of  a  display  of  more  courage,  energy,  pluck 
and  indomnitable  perseverance,  than  these  early 
pioneers  exhibited,  in  establishing  themselves  in  their 
new  domain.  Still,  in  the  midst  of  all  their  privations; 
in  the  midst  of  all  their  fears  of  death  at  the  hands  of 
murderous,  blood-thirsty  savages;  they  were  resolute. 
They  were  under  the  necessity  of  practicing  rigid  ab 
negation,  in  consequence  of  their  complete  isolation 
from  the  outside  world.  They  did  not,  however,  have 
to  endure  this  isolation  very  long.  The  news  of  their 
having  discovered  a  land  of  superlative  beaut}',  a  land 
that  met  the  demands  of  the  poet's  dream,  spread 
every  where. 

While  the  Indians  were  growing  more  and  more  re 
sentful  at  the  idea  of  having  their  grand  hunting- 
grounds  invaded  by  the  white  men,  still,  emigration 
on  a  small  scale,  set  in  from  the  States  of  Maryland, 
Virginia  and  the  Carolinas,  and  resolute  and  determined 
home-seekers,  wended  their  way  to  what  was  afterwards 


WHAT  NEXT?  5 

named,  in  the  Indian  dialect,  "The  Dark  and  Bloody 
Ground." 

These  new  comers,  in  order  to  the  better  protection 
of  themselves  and  their  children  from  the  untutored, 
and  yet  crafty  savages,  constructed  in  different  parts  of 
the  country,  rude  fortifications,  which,  although  they 
were  simple  in  style  of  architecture,  were  nevertheless, 
a  means  of  shelter  from  their  skulking,  insidious,  wily 
foes.  Of  these  forts,  Boonesboro,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Kentucky  river,  was  the  most  noted. 

The  States,  already  named,  were  possibly  less  cosmo 
politan  in  citizenship,  than  they  are  to-day.  England, 
Ireland,  Scotland  and  Holland  furnished  the  bulk  of 
the  early  emigration  to  these  States. 

A  trip  from  any  one  of  these  countries  to  the  Ameri 
can  continent,  with  the  means  of  travel  which 
•emigrants,  in  the  early  history  of  the  States,  had 
necessarily  to  use,  was  an  enterprise  which  none  but 
the  most  daring  and  determined  spirits  would  under 
take.  A  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  consumed  weeks. 
It  was  wearing  and  perilous  withal. 

The  reader  will  pardon  the  foregoing  little  abstract 
of  authentic  history.  It  is  sometimes  important  for 
the  better  understanding  of  a  bit  of  romance,  especially 
if  the  romance  be  founded  upon  fact,  that  the  origin 
or  pedigree  of  the  parties  who  figure  in  the  story, 
should  be  brought  forward.  We,  as  a  people,  are  not 
sufficiently  British  in  our  practice  to  allow  the  fortuity 
of  birth  to  atone  for  moral  obliquity,  not  sufficiently 
European  to  hide  beneath  a  title  an  accumulation  of 
vicious  turpitude.  This  being  true,  we  are  wont  to 
inquire  something  in  regard  to  the  parentage  and  ante 
cedents  of  persons  in  our  country  in  whose  personal 
welfare  we  become  especially  interested. 


6  WHAT  NEXT? 

The  parties  whose  partial  history  is  given  in  this  little 
volume,  are  deserving  of  a  pedigree  that  runs,  on  one 
side  of  the  family,  back  to  Scotland.  Amid  the 
Grampain  hills  of  old  Scotia  the  progenitors  of  that 
party  once  dwelt.  Hardy,  brave,  honest  and  honor 
able,  they  tended  their  flocks,  manufactured  flax  goods, 
and  led  peaceable,  quiet  lives,  with  a  history  traceable 
to  the  turbulence  immediately  following  the  accession 
of  William  and  Mary  to  the  throne  from  which  James 
had  been  deposed. 

In  consequence  of  the  frequent  disturbances  which 
were  occurring  in  the  land  of  their  nativity,  as  well  as 
an  urgent  desire  to  seek  a  home  in  the  new  world,  a 
world  in  which  it  was  learned  there  was  freedom  from 
the  trammels  of  religious  persecution,  exemption  from 
direct  church  taxation,  they  became  emigrants.  They 
sought  a  land  where  freedom  of  conscience  and  free 
dom  of  speech  were  guaranteed.  They  sought  relief 
from  the  incubus  of  King-craft  and  the  domination  of 
priest-craft.  Among  these  early  emigrants,  a  Scotch 
man,  just  two  generations  removed  from  the  one  whose 
history  is  partially  given  in  this  volume,  emigrated 
to  America.  Proud,  as  Scotchmen  always  are  of  their 
Caledonian  pedigree,  he  settled  in  Pennsylvania. 

Not  satisfied  to  remain  in  the  section  of  country  in 
which  he  at  first  located,  because  of  its  being  settled 
largely  by  Hollanders  or  Dutch  people,  this  young  man 
resolved  to  hunt  a  section  of  country  more  congenial 
to  his  tastes.  Leaving  the  land  of  William  Penn,  he 
went  to  Virginia,  which,  while  it  was  yet  a  British 
colony,  was  named  in  honor  of  England's  virgin  queen. 
The  emigrant.  Theodore  Parsons,  found  much  to  please 


WHAT  NEXT?  7 

him  in  the  kind  and  hospitable  reception  which  greet 
ed  him,  upon  his  advent,  as  a  stranger,  among  its 
people. 

It  was  easy  for  this  recently  imported  specimen  of 
young  manhood  to  institute  a  comparison  between 
the  spreading  landscapes  of  Virginia  and  the  moun 
tain  fastnesses  of  old  Scotland.  It  would  seem  that 
what  Mr.  Parsons  saw,  stretching  out  before  him 
in  this  new  locality  like  a  grand  panorama,  would 
have  satisfied  his  taste  for  the  beautiful  and  met 
his  demands  as  a  location  for  employment,  as  well  as 
a  permanent  home.  But  such  was  not  the  case. 

Theodore  Parsons  had  heard  the  story  that  farther 
west  there  was  a  land  of  beauty  unparalleled,  a 
land  whose  richness  was  unwatched,  and  a  land 
where  blue-grass  grewr  that  was  nevertheless  green,  and, 
that  amid  this  beauty,  this  fertility  and  this  newness, 
wild  turkeys,  dressed  in  feathers  of  mare  than  glossy 
beauty  and  brightness,  wandered  in  almost  countless 
numbers  ;  and  Parsons  was  restive. 

About  the  time  that  the  incidents  recorded  in  the 
foregoing  paragraph  were  taking  place,  a  family  by  the 
name  of  Call  and  one  by  the  name  of  Orr  started  for 
Kentucky,  although  the  news  from  that  district  of  Vir 
ginia  was  somewhat  disheartening.  The  trouble  between 
Great  Britain  and  her  American  colonies  was  brewing, 
and  this,  of  course,  was  a  draw-back  to  an  increase  in 
the  promised  settlement  in  the  new  territory.  However, 
in  1775,  Boone  had  built  the  first  fort  which  was  erected 
in  this  part  of  Virginia,  and  having  reached  the  des 
tination  for  which  they  started,  the  Call  and  Orr  families 
took  refuge  in  the  fort  at  Boonesboro. 


8  WHAT  NEXT? 

There  were  many  thrilling  incidents  that  took  place 
while  these  families,  together  with  the  other  occupants 
of  the  fort  were  suffering  a  partial  imprisonment  as  a 
protection  from  the  diabolism  of  the  incensed  and  im 
placable  Indians.  It  is  not  the  purpose,  however,  of 
the  writer,  to  deal  with  these  blood-curdling  and  soul- 
harrowing  incidents :  so,  turning  from  the  contem 
plation  of  gory  tragedies,  the  reader  may  be  somewhat 
abrubtly  introduced  to  a  courtship  that  took  place,  at 
least  in  part,  while  the  Red  Man  of  the  forest  was 
sending  his  whistling  bullets  in  search  of  human  life. 

In  the  Call  family  there  was  a  beautiful  and  sprightly 
girl,  a  very  heroine  in  the  midst  of  trouble.  She  was 
just  blooming  into  a  noble  womanhood,  and  at  the 
time  of  her  entering  the  fort,  had  just  passed  into  the 
sweetest  period  of  girl-life — she  was  just  sixteen.  She 
was  the  admiration  of  every  young  male  member  of 
the  fort's  garison,  and  any  one  of  them  would 
have  run  the  risk  of  receiving  a  wound  of  dubious  mor 
tality  from  his  swarthy  foe,  provided  he  could  have 
had  an  assurance  that  he  would  have  received,  while  on 
his  furlough,  the  kind  ministrations  of  Miss  Mary  Call. 

Of  all  the  young  men  in  that  fort  who  coveted  a 
smile  from  the  handsome  face  of  Miss  Call,  no  one 
seemed  to  be  rewarded  with  a  soul-searching  expression, 
that  brought  the  glow  of  heartfelt  gladness  to  his  face 
except  Alonzo  Orr. 

There  was  something  attractive  about  young  Orr. 
He  could  hardly  have  been  called  handsome.  Still, 
there  was  a  suavity  of  manner  that  went  a  long  way 
in  the  direction  of  winning  lasting  friendships.  In 
addition,  there  was  with  him  an  acknowledged  brave- 
ry  that  demanded  and  commanded  respect.  He 
shrank  from  no  duty,  and  was  ready  for  any  emergency. 


WHAT  NEXT?  9 

It  soon  become  evident  to  all,  except  such  as  chose 
not  to  see,  that  the  attachment  existing  between  Miss 
Mary  Call  and  Alonzo  Orr  was  in  character,  different  from 
that  which  might  be  engendered  by  a  common  danger. 
When  on  a  hunting  excursion,  or  a  scouting  trail,  Mary 
gave  evidence  of  an  anxious,  uneasy  feeling,  by  her 
very  effort  to  appear  indifferent  to  his  absence.  As 
long  as  Alonzo  was  inside  of  the  fort,  Mary's  face  wore 
a  placidity  of  expression,  such  as  poets  love  to  weave 
about  with  a  golden  glow  of  heavenly  radiance.  Alonzo, 
in  half  adoration,  poured  out  in  his  back-woodman's 
dialect,  the  supreme  desire  of  his  soul  to  the  attentive 
ears  of  Man7  Call.  She  listened  to  him.  The  declar 
ations  he  made  did  not  alarm  her.  She  had  discovered, 
long  before  his  avowals,  that  he  loved  her,  and  was 
consequent!}"  somewhat  anxious  for  the  time  to  come 
when  he  would  make  known,  in  words,  what  he  had  so 
long  been  unable  to  conceal  in  his  actions. 

When  Alonzo  asked  her  to  become  his  wife,  with  her 
characteristic  frankness,  she  replied  by  saying,  "not  yet, 
Alonzo,  I  am  over  young  to  marry  yet,  but  "bide  a  we," 
and  in  the  no  far  off  future,  Providence  permitting,  this 
hand  shall  be  yours,  for  this  heart  is  already  all  j'ours." 

Was  this  love-making  sentimental  ?  Then  would 
that  there  could  be  a  larger  share  of  sentimentalism  in 
the  wooing  which  is  intended  to  lead  to  a  life-partner 
ship  between  the  wooer  and  the  wooed.  The  intentions 
of  two  young  people  in  this  instance  were  perfectly 
honest.  There  was  nothing  sinister  that  paved  the 
way  to  this  bargain.  Mammon  was  not  an  invited 
listener  to  this  coloquy,  nor  did  he  play  any  part  in  the 
arrangement  into  which  these  young  people  entered. 
There  was  no  bidding  for  pelf  on  the  part  of  either  of 


10  WHAT  NEXT? 

the  contracting  parties.  Neither  of  them  looked  for 
ward  to  an  inheritance  to  which  neither  was  entitled 
by  virtue  of  having  honestly  worked  for  any  part 
thereof.  They  proposed  that  when  their  marital  vows 
had  heen  solemnized  at  Hymen's  alter,  they  would, 
after  the  Indians  had  ceased  to  perpetrate  their  out 
rages  upon  the  emigrants  to  this  new  country,  build  for 
themselves  a  home,  and  gather  about  it  as  many  of 
the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life  as  their  own 
economy  and  industry  would  justify. 

The  parents  of  the  two  proposed  partners  were  fully 
advised  as  to  the  condition  of  affairs  between  •  their 
children,  but  showed  no  kind  of  dissatisfaction  in  re 
gard  to  the  match  proposed.  In  fact  Miss  Call,  in  the 
purity  of  a  whollj'  innocent  nature,  made  of  her  mother 
a  confidant  and  counselor.  Under  the  advice  of  that 
mother,  the  nuptials  were  postponed  indefinitely,  or  at 
least  deferred  till  a  future  time,  to  be  specified  later  on. 

After  various  successes,  with  now  and  then  a  reverse 
in  the  contest  of  an  increasing  number  of  emigrants  for 
supremacy  over  the  Red  Man,  the  latter  measurably 
retired  from  the  contest,  and  transferred  their  warfare 
farther  north.  In  the  mean  time  Miss  Mary  Call  be 
came  the  wife  of  Alonzo  Orr  and  a  voluntary  evacua 
tion  of  Boonesboro  took  place  about  the  same  time, 
and  the  emigrants  sought  homes  in  different  sections 
of  the  county  of  Kentucky,  state  of  Virginia. 

"There  now!  What  a  story!"  says  the  disappointed 
reader.  "What  a  strange  story-teller,  too,  he  must  be, 
to  bring  forward  an  imaginary  heroine,  and  with  little 
more  than  an  introduction  to  his  readers,  marry  her  off 
to  a  young  backwoods  emigrant,  and  of  course  close 
up  the  history  of  one  whom  we  had  expected  to  follow 
through  nearly  the  whole  of  a  length}*  narrative." 


WHAT  NEXT?  11 

Hold  on,  kind  reader.  You  are  jumping  at  a  con 
clusion,  and  like  all  persons  who  jump  in  the  dark, 
you  are  apter  to  alight  where  you  did  not  expect,  than 
where  you  did. 

You  will  allow  me  in  the  course  of  this  introductory 
chapter  to  my  novelette,  to  mention  the  difference  in 
the  style  of  the  titles  worn  by  what  are  called  the  bet 
ter  class  of  society  in  the  old  world,  and  the  passports 
which  are  necessarily  worn  by  people  seeking  admis 
sion  into  good  society  in  the  American  Republic. 

Bear  in  mind  also  please,  that  I  am  speaking  as 
though  I  were  living  in  the  century  when  Mary  Call 
was  first  discovered  as  only  a  girl,  an  undeveloped 
woman,  in  the  fort  at  Boonesboro,  possibly  holding  the 
door  of  the  fort  ajar,  for  the  speedier  ingress  of  some 
wounded  member  of  the  fort,  who  is  trying  to  escape 
being  again  wounded  by  a  pursuing  Indian,  whose  war- 
cry  is,  "Death  to  the  pale  face." 

The  question  is  not  whether  Mary  wore  a  title,  with 
which  she  had  been  dubbed  by  kingly  edict,  or  queenly 
grant,  and  which  had  been  assumed  to  be  scarcely  less 
honorable  than  the  ''Star  and  Garter."  Mary  was  a  plain, 
simple,  kind-hearted,  liberty-loving  American  damsel. 
She  coveted  not  borrowed  distinction  that  could  reach 
no  further  than  the  portal  which  separated  the  seen 
from  the  unseen.  She  had  learned  that  the  European 
Countess  wore  her  badge  of  distinction  no  further 
than  the  tomb ;  that  when  she  passed  into  the  dark 
confines  thereof,  the  worthlessness  of  her  title  became 
apparent.  But,  notwithstanding  this  knowledge,  Mary 
Call  was  prompted  by  an  innate  desire  to  possess  a 
passport  into  the  best  of  human  society ;  one  which 
would  not  be  obliterated  bv  the  hand  of  death.  In 


12  WHAT  NEXT? 

order  to  being  fitted  for  the  wearing  of  such  insignia, 
she  was  modest,  kind,  industrious,  hospitable,  sincere 
and  punctiliously  exact  in  the  discharge  of  religious 
dut3r.  Heaven  smiled  upon  the  outcropping  recommen 
dations  which  she  presented,  and  the  probation  est  of 
the  Eternal  King,  together  with  His  sign-manual,  gave 
to  Mary  Call  the  glorious  privilege  of  wearing  a  pass 
port  that  would  pilot  her  through  life,  through  the 
grave,  and  be  ultimately  exchanged  for  a  crown  of 
glory,  in  the  Everlasting  city  of  her  God. 

But,  while  I  am  writing  these  somewhat  fulsome 
compliments  to  the  credit  of  Mary  Call,  I  have  not 
grown  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  she  has  become 
the  wife  of  Alonzo  Orr,  and  that  these  two  people,  to 
whose  fair  names  no  flaw  attached,  are  living  comfort 
ably  and  happily  in  a  home  which  was  finished  the 
year  that  our  State  was  admitted  into  the  Union. 

Even  during  the  time  into  which  this  history  reaches, 
about  the  first  boast  in  which  a  Kentuckian  indulged 
was  to  compliment  the  beauty  and  the  fleetness  of 
his  mare.  He  believed  that  "blood  would  tell"  in 
horses  as  well  as  in  men.  He  talked  about  pedigree, 
even  when  he  could  not  trace  to  any  remote  ancestry 
the  origin  of  the  mare  about  whose  noble  qualities 
he  was  ever  ready  to  descant.  Leaving  the  discuss 
ion  of  equine  pedigrees,  the  pristine  settlers  of  the 
of  the  new  Commonwealth  would  sometimes  vent 
ure  upon  a  questioning  investigation  as  to  the  qual 
ities  and  general  characters  of  some  absent  menr 
ber  of  the  settlement,  and  in  these  homely  disser 
tations,  no  speech  was  ever  made  that  reflected  in  the 
least  upon  the  honor  or  integrity  of  Alonzo  Orr.  Being 
a  quiet  man,  rather  retiring  in  his  manner,  and,  by 


WHAT  NEXT?  13 

no  means,  given  to  an  over  amount  of  loquacity,  he  had 
never  pushed  upon  any  listener,  information  in  regard 
to  his  origin,  his  ancestry,  or  from  what  region  he  came. 
It  was  known  that  he  came  from  Virginia  to  Kentucky, 
but,  beyond  this,  no  disclosure  had  been  made  as  to  what 
land  gave  him  birth,  and  it  was  only  by  special  inquiry 
upon  this  point  that  it  was  learned  that  he  was  born 
in  the  County  Down,  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  and  emi 
grated  to  the  States  in  1774,  while  his  wife's  parents 
came  to  Maryland  from  the  province  of  Alsace 
in  France,  and  from  there  went  to  Virginia  where  Mary 
was  born. 

My  reason  for  this  introductory  chapter  to  my  story 
must  now  be  made  known.  I  have  written  about  ped" 
igrees,  about  blood  and  about  titles  ;  but  have,  so  far, 
not  intimated  why  I  seemed  to  be  on  the  search  for 
something  in  the  way  of  a  recommendation  for  the 
two  people,  over  whose  marriage  the  caviling,  captious 
reader  was  disposed  to  complain,  because  both  hero 
and  heroine  were  side-tracked  too  early  in  their  history. 
Well,  we  left  them  in  possession  of  an  inner  conscious 
ness,  that  they  owed  it  as  a  duty  to  themselves  to  lead 
lives  of  purity,  honesty  and  uprightness.  Nay,  more, 
we  left  them  impressed  with  this  idea,  because  of  the 
influence  such  lives  would  have  upon  the  susceptive 
minds  of  a  flock  of  children,  for  whose  training  these 
parents  would  be  largely  held  responsible. 

It  is  gratifying  to  record  the  fact  that  genuine  good 
ness  characterized  the  lives  of  these  two  people  as  well 
as  the  lives  of  the  children  as  they  gradually  grew  to 
maturity .  The  names  of  Mary  and  Alonzo  Orr  were 
synonims  in  their  neighborhood  for  hospitality  and 
Christian  kindness. 


14  WHAT  NEXT? 

I  am  more  than  glad  to  place  so  fine  a  record  to  the 
credit  of  these  two  good  people.  They  deserve  it.  But 
my  special  gratification  grows  out  of  the  fact,  that  a 
mutual  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  real  hero  in  this 
piece  of  romance,  puts  us  upon  common  ground.  As 
the  Kentuckian  would  say,  I  think  the  stock  is  good, 
and  there  is  proof  of  this  in  the  fact.  that,  counting 
Mary  and  Alonzo,  through  three  generations  there  has 
not  been  found  a  single  "hlack  sheep." 

Rejoice  with  me,  kind  reader,  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Orr 
were  the  maternal  grand  parents  of  John  Parsons. 
His  careeer  constituted  him  the  chief  actor  in  a  drama 
which  eventually  worked  out  the  title  to  this  novel. 

Theodore  Parsons,  whom  we  last  saw  as  a  new 
recruit  to  the  settlement  on  the  James  river  in  Virginia, 
left  the  "Old  Dominion"  shortly  after  the  departure  of 
the  Orr  and  Call  families,  came  to  Kentucky,  and  set 
tled  in  one  of  the  richest  counties  of  the  Blue  Grass 
region.  Here  he  married  a  Miss  Harris,  bought  a  farm 
and  settled  down  to  business  life.  He  was  prosperous 
in  his  pecuniary  undertakings,  and  with  the  enhance 
ment  of  his  worldly  possessions,  and  the  growth  of  his 
influence,  there  was  a  growth  also  in  the  size  of  his 
family.  Mr.  Parsons  raised  a  number  of  children  and 
his  sons  were  all  influential,  good  citizens,  his  daugh 
ters  splendid  women.  The  intermarrying  among  these 
different  families,  preserved,  even  through  three  genera 
tions,  the  names  of  the  original  emigrants  who  brought 
their  hopes  and  desires  from  foreign  shores.  These 
different  names  were,  of  course,  supplanted  first  bjr  a 
number  of  Virginians,  and  later  by  a  large  number  of 
Kentuckians,  as  a  contingent. 


WHAT  NEXT?  15 

The  children  of  Alonzo  Orr  presented  some  peculiar 
physical  characteristics,  as  a  natural  result  of  a  mixing 
of  Celtic  and  Gallic  blood.  The  men  of  the  family, 
while  not  noted  for  robustness,  were  possessed  of  a 
considerable  power  of  endurance.  They  were  noted  as 
well  for  their  abstemiousness,  for  their  aversion  to  liti 
gation,  and  for  their  disinclination  to  meddle  in  other 
people's  affairs.  Temples  of  justice  or  court  houses, 
would  be  useless  articles  of  state  furniture,  if  all  men 
were  like  the  sons  of  Alonzo  Orr  proved  to  be. 

The  daughters  in  the  Orr  family,  of  whom  there 
were  three,  were  handsome  women,  a  little  under-size, 
and  rather  delicate  in  build.  The  second  of  these 
young  ladies,  reckoning  by  birth,  was  a  reputed  beauty, 
and  was  as  much  noted  for  her  sweetness  of  disposition, 
suavity  of  manner,  and  gentleness  among  her  associ 
ates,  as  she  was  for  her  personal  attractions.  Young 
men  were  not  wanting  who  would  have  fain  paid  her 
court,  and  sued  for  her  hand,  even  before  she  had  at 
tained  to  an  age  suitable  for  assuming  womanly  duties. 

Time  went  by,  and  before  many  moons  had  waxed 
and  waned,  by  what  might  seem  to  be  a  coincidence, 
the  fourth  son  of  Theodore  Parsons,  left  the  paternal 
home  in  search  of  business,  as  a  mechanic.  He  found 
employment  in  the  shire  town  of  W—  — ,  situated 

in  one  of  the  best  counties  of  the  richer  district  of  the 
State. 

While  engaged  in  wrorking  at  his  trade  in  W — 

at  the  close  of  his  work  for  the  week,  young  Robert 
Parsons  was  wont,  now  and  then,  to  mount  his  horse 
and  hie  himself  away  through  the  country  in  search  of 
pleasure,  and  to  gratify  his  naturally  social  disposition 
in  the  company  of  his  young  acquaintances. 


16  WHAT  NEXT? 

In  one  of  these  hebdomadal  peregrinations,  Parsons 
chanced  to  fall  in  with  two  young  men  who  stated  that 
they  were  going  to  the  county  of  M—  — to  make  a 
call  on  the  Misses  Orr,  and  asked  him  to  accompany 
them.  He  consented  to  accept  their  invitation  and 
accordingly  went  with  them  to  the  home  of  Alonzo  Orr. 

The  county  of  M—  — lies  upon  what  might  be  called 
the  selvage  or  margin  of  the  Blue  Grass  region.  In  a 
large  part  of  this  county  blue  grass  grew  in  as  rich 
luxuriance  as  it  did  in  any  part  of  the  State,  and  the 
citizens  who  owned  the  land  in  this  county,  lived  in 
such  ease  and  comfort  as  to  excite  the  cupidity  and 
covetousness  of  the  non-landholder. 

When  the  young  men  reached  the  home  of  Mr.  Orr, 
they  were  met  by  the  host  with  a  display  of  such  ur 
banity  and  hospitality  as  was  characteristic  of  the  times. 
Having  traveled  a  considerable  distance,  it  was  under 
stood  that  the  3Toung  men  would  remain  for  the  night. 

Of  course  these  incidents  occurred  in  antebellum 
times,  and  the  slaves  who  were  happy  and  contented, 
were  ever  ready  to  extend  to  visiting  guests,  that  part 
of  the  hospitality  which  belonged  especially  to  them. 
Sambo  was  the  first  to  meet  the  young  men  upon  their 
arrival.  His  shining  teeth  and  laughing  eyes  bespoke 
plainly  the  fact  that  he  was  in  a  good  humor  with  him 
self  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  It  needed  no  instruc 
tion  to  the  satisfied  negro  what  he  was  to  do,  and  he 
took  the  gentlemen's  horses  to  the  stable. 

The  evening  was  quite  chilly,  it  being  about  the 
middle  of  October  and  the  young  men  were  delighted 
to  be  invited  into  a  large  room  in  which  was  burning 
in  a  broad  fire-place  a  bright  wood  fire. 


WHAT  NEXT?  17 

The  trio  had  scarcely  divested  themselves  of  the  chill 
with  which  a  stiff  October  breeze  had  mantled  them, 
when  the  young  ladies  of  the  household  made  their  ap 
pearance  and  were  introduced  to  Mr.  Robert  Parsons 
by  one  of  his  visiting  companions,  both  of  whom  had 
visited  the  family  before. 

Such  pictures  as  the  old-time  hospitality  manifested 
by  this  most  excellent  family,  leave  upon  the  memory 
of  those  who  have  been  participants  of  it,  a  glorious 
recollection  of  the  joys  long  past,  but  which  hang 
about  the  portals  of  the  soul,  like  pleasant  dreams 
which  will  not  vanish. 

After  the  six  young  people  had  enjoyed  themselves 
for  a  while,  in  a  general  lively  running  conversation, 
the  door  into  the  dining  room  was  opened  and  the  steam 
ing  aroma  from  a  delicious  supper,  such  as  old-time 
Negro  cooks  knew  so  well  how  to  prepare,  greeted  the 
visitors  as  an  inviting  appetizer. 

No  better  compliment  can  be  paid  the  host  at  whose 
table  you  eat,  than  to  exhibit  your  knowledge  of  gas 
tronomy,  and  by  prudent  and  hearty  enjoyment  of  the 
well  prepared  viands  show  your  appreciation  of  his 
cook's  skill. 

In  this  regard  the  three  young  men  behaved  very 
nicely.  A  long  and  somewhat  brisk  ride  through  a 
cold  autumn  atmosphere,  had  whetted  their  appetites, 
and,  even  if  the  fare  had  been  plain  but  substantial, 
they  could  have  complied  with  the  requirement  which 
the  man  of  Nazareth  gave  to  his  disciples,  when  He 
said  to  them,  "Eat  such  things  as  are  set  before  you." 

But  these  visitors  were  really  in  the  mood  to  compli 
ment  Mr.  Orr's  family,  by  eating  heartily  at  a  table  that 
was  "loaded,"  as  the  nautical  man  would  say,  "down 


18  WHAT  NEXT? 

to  the  guards,"  with  provision  suited  to  ever}-  taste, 
and  prepared  in  most  excellent  style.  Some  of  the 
oldest  citizens  of  our  country,  decaying  landmarks 
upon  the  highway  of  time,  are  wont  to  pine  for  the 
"days  lang  syne,"  and  distressingly  regret  that  the 
changes  in  human  society  have  made  locks  upon  doors 
an  absolute  necessity. 

After  supper  the  3roung  people  repaired  to  the  gen 
eral  assembly  room,  of  the  family,  and  it  was  soon 
observable  that  Robert  Parsons  was  somewhat  anxious 
to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Lucy  Orr.  This 
young  lady  was  not  disposed  to  throw  anything  in  the 
way  of  Parsons'  succeeding  in  his  purpose.  Indeed  it 
was  not  hard  to  discover  that  Miss  Lucjr  was  pleased 
with  the  young  stranger.  The  admiration  seemed  to 
be  mutual,  and  it  was  not  a  surprise  that  before  they 
separated  permission  had  been  granted  to  Parsons  by 
Miss  Lucy  Orr  that  he  might  call  upon  her  again,  at  a 
specified  time. 

When  the  visitors  retired  for  the  night,  it  seemed 
that  Somnus  was  for  a  time  wooed  in  vain,  and  even 
when  he  condescended  to  spread  his  enveloping  veil 
over  the  mind  of  young  Parsons  and  thereby  shut  out 
the  exercise  of  sense  from  contact  with  material  things, 
the  goddess  of  dreams  led  him  away  to  the  realms  in 
which  sport  fantastic  figures,  peris,  whose  beckonings 
are  bewildering,  sylphs  wearing  womanly  features,  such 
as  at  once  wove  a  strange  enchantment  about  the  soul. 
Such  was  the  contest  through  which  Parsons  waged  a 
continuous  struggle  during  the  live-long  night. 

The  condition  that  the  young  man  was  in  is  not 
hard  to  explain.  The  little  blind  son  of  Venus  had 
been  at  work  the  whole  of  the  previous  afternoon,  and 
a  large  part  of  the  same  evening. 


WHAT  NEXT?  19 

With  the  coming  of  the  morning,  if  Parsons  had  had 
a  skillful  soul  surgeon  to  diagnose  his  case,  he 
would  have  found  several  serious  wounds  which  the 
little  blind  son  of  love's  divinity  had  left  in  his  heart 
by  arrows  which  had  been  shot  the  day  before. 

When  the  visitors  had  been  summoned  to  breakfast, 
it  was  noticed  that  Parsons  did  not  exhibit  the  com 
manding  appetite  which  he  exhibited  on  the  previous 
evening,  but  no  one  dared  to  make  a  comment  on 
that  fact.  There  may  have  been  one  at  the  table  who 
was  suspicious,  but  her  suspicion  did  not  even  force  a 
blush  to  mantle  her  handsome  face,  and  her  thoughts 
were  locked  within  the  citadel  of  her  own  soul. 

After  breakfast  the  horses  were  ordered,  and  the 
ever  faithful  Sambo  was  soon  on  hand  leading  the 
'three  horses,  each  of  which  showed  its  splendid  groom 
ing.  As  the  gentlemen  mounted,  each  tossed  a  piece 
of  money  into  the  extended  palm  of  the  sable  son  of 
Africa.  The  gift  was  acknowledged  by  a  polite  nod  of 
his  uncovered,  woolly  head,  a  broad  grin  and  a 
"thankee,  thankee." 

As  the  pieces  of  money  which  were  dropped  into 
Sambo's  hands,  by  each  of  the  young  men,  as  a  tip 
for  his  trouble,  touched  his  palm,  he  momentarily 
scrutinized  each  piece,  and  as  the  offering  of  Parsons 
was  the  last,  he  at  once  discovered  that  the  gift  which 
he  made  was  double  what  either  of  the  others  had 
made,  he  gave  vent  to  a  loud  guffaw,  and  with  a  low 
bow  said,  "thankee  boss,  thankee  boss,  I's  much 
ablege  to  you." 

Parsons  rode  a  good  horse,  and  inasmuch  as  an 
appointment  had  been  made  for  a  future  meeting  with 
Miss  Lucy  Orr,  he  was,  by  his  double  tipping  of  the 


20  WHAT  NEXT? 

Negro,  opening  an  insurance  office  against  danger  from 
hunger  or  mistreatment  of  his  handsome  steed,  during 
his  next  visit  to  the  Orr  homestead.  Besides  this,  his 
good-by  to  Miss  Lucy  had  left  a  pleasant  impression 
with  him,  and  he  felt  desirous  to  make  some  one  else 
feel  happy.  Sambo  was  a  good  subject  to  begin  on,  as 
was  evidenced  by  his  bowing  and  waving  his  hat  as 
the  young  men  rode  away. 

Parsons  may  have  been  a  little  restive  over  the 
apparently  tardy  travel  of  time  which  was  to  lead  up 
to  the  second  visit  to  Miss  Orr.  But  that  time  came, 
and  Robert  Parsons  started  on  his  jaunt,  in  some 
excitement  over  the  anticipated  pleasure  of  another 
visit  to  the  home  of  his  new  acquaintance.  Robert 
proposed,  if  possible,  to  make  this  outing  a  matter  of 
business  as  well  as  one  of  enjoyment.  The  conviction 
seemed  to  have  fastened  itself  upon  his  mind  that 
Miss  Lucy  Orr  would  make  some  man  a  most  excellent 
wife,  and  he  determined,  by  honest  efforts,  to  be  that 
man. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  home  of  the  young  lady,  the 
man  of  ebony  having  been  posted  in  regard  to 
the  time  when  Parsons  might  be  expected,  had  put 
himself  in  a  position  to  be  the  first  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  approaching  stranger,  and  no  sooner  had  Robert's 
horse  turned  his  side  to  the  style  in  front  of  the  yard 
to  allow  his  rider  to  dismount,  than  Sambo  had  the 
horse  by  the  bit  and  was  smiling  and  bowing  as  though 
he  might  have  had  trainings  at  the  hands  of  some 
African  Chesterfield. 

Sambo  was  glad  to  see  Mr.  Parsons.  Of  course  he 
was  glad.  He  expected  to  turn  a  penny  or  two,  by 
this  manifestation  of  pleasure,  and,  in  this  instance  he 


WHAT  NEXT?  21 

did  not  differ  from  a  large  part  of  the  better  educated 
members  of  the  human  family,  who  like  that  in  which 
they  can  see  something  to  be  gained. 

Mr.  Parsons  was  not  only  greeted  by  Sambo  with 
cordiality.  Every  member  of  the  family  gave  him  a 
warm  hearted  salutation.  Miss  Lucy,  while  showing  a 
degree  of  bashful  coyness,  as  she  presented  her  hand 
of  welcome,  still  showed  by  the  peculiar  expression  of 
her  dark  blue  eyes,  that  she  would  offer  him  a  warmer 
welcome  than  could  be  tendered  him  by  any  other 
member  of  the  family. 

Much  has  been  said,  as  well  as  written  about  "love 
at  first  sight,"  and  if  there  be  any  truth  in  this 
assumption,  the  case  before  us  might  be  taken  as  proof 
of  its  correctness. 

When  Robert  Parsons  made  his  first  visit  to  the  Orr 
family,  upon  his  introduction  to  the  different  members 
thereof,  there  was  no  name  repeated  by  him  in  that 
introduction  which  seemed  to  be  followed  by  such  a 
strange  thrill  as  that  which  ran  through  his  whole 
frame,  when  he  made  his  first  bow  to  Miss  Lucy,  and 
for  the  first  time  repeated  her  name. 

Is  it  true  that  there  is  an  invisible,  intangible  and 
inexplicable  something  that  domicils  itself  in  every 
uncorrupted  human  soul,  and  which,  although  without  a 
word  language,  can  be  eloquent  nevertheless?  If  so,  what 
is  it?  Let  the  Psjrchologist  answer,  and  then,  possibly, 
can  be  understood  what  is  meant,  when  it  is  said  that 
Robert  Parsons  experienced  something  so  different, 
upon  his  first  meeting  Miss  Lucy  Orr,  from  anything 
he  had  ever  felt  before. 

Are  matches  or  mating  made  by  the  direct  interven 
tion  of  Heavenly  hands  ?  Are  the  laws  of  the  Most 


22  WHAT  NEXT? 

High  so  utterly  infrangible  that  none  can  trample 
upon  the  decree  which  has  fated  the  union  of  two 
human  beings  ?  Let  those  believe  it  who  may ;  there 
is  too  much  ultra  predestinarianism  in  the  idea  to 
meet  the  demands  of  the  average  thinker.  Matches 
made  in  Heaven  indeed!  If  such  an  assertion 
were  true,  Heaven  could  be  justly  arraigned  for  com 
mitting  some  of  the  most  egregious  blunders,  and 
lending  a  hand  to  some  of  the  most  signal  matrimonial 
failures  that  even  divine  wisdom  could  imagine. 

There  was  no  'such  Galvanism  in  Robert  Parsons' 
religious  belief.  He  therefore  concluded  that  whatever 
might  be  the  result  of  his  visits  to  the  Orr  family,  no 
censure  would  be  laid  at  Heaven's  gate  because  of 
failure  in  his  purpose ;  no  peans  of  praise  sung  to 
angelic  listeners,  because  of  his  success.  The  truth  is, 
Robert's  ideas  of  the  way  to  treat  the  matrimonial  bee 
that  was  buzzing  in  his  head,  rather  than  in  his  hat, 
would  be  to  placate  the  stranger,  and  to  solicit  the  aid 
of  Miss  Lucy  Orr,  in  order  to  insure  a  successful  issue 
to  his  undertaking.  Acting  in  harmony  with  this  con 
clusion,  although  this  was  but  the  second  visit  to  the 
young  lady,  he  deliberately  laid  the  matter  before  her, 
the  first  quiet  opportunity  that  presented  itself,  and 
invoked  her  aid  in  delivering  him  out  of  his  troubles. 
Miss  Lucy  was  not  at  all  terrified,  either  by  the 
proposition  submitted  or  earnestness  with  which  her 
suitor  laid  his  proposition  before  her. 

Somehow,  from  the  little  conferences  which  the  two 
had  held  during  the  first  visit,  as  well  as  because  of  the 
short  time  which  he  had  suggested  should  elapse 
before  his  second  coming,  Miss  Lucy  had  guessed  that 
he  meant  business,  and  business  of  much  moment  to  the 
young  man,  as  well  as  of  deep  import  to  herself. 


WHAT  NEXT?  23 

With  true  womanly  instincts  she  discussed  the 
whole  of  the  important  question  that  was  before  them. 
It  was  no  flimsy,  flighty  courtship.  It  was  one  in 
which  the  important  details,  connected  with-  what  was 
to  he  their  changed  relations,  were  fully  and  frankly  ex 
amined.  There  was  no  hitch  in  any  one  of  the  propositions 
submitted,  either  by  him  or  by  her.  He  had  asked  her 
to  become  his  wife.  She  had  consented  to  do  so.  A 
delay,  Robert  thought,  might  possibly  be  dangerous, 
so  the  two  went  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Orr  for  a  ratifica 
tion  of  what  they  had  done.  The  old  people  readily 
gave  their  consent  and  the  young  people  were  made 
happy. 

Verbal  invitations  were  sent  out  to  people  living 
among  the  hills,  in  the  vales,  in  the  neighboring  hamlet, 
to  the  humble,  to  the  well  to  do,  to  the  farmer,  to  the 
mechanic,  indeed  to  almost  everybody,  to  attend  the 
Hymeneal  celebration  of  Miss  Lucy  Orr's  union  with 
Robert  Parsons ;  the  day  for  the  wedding  being  three 
weeks  from  the  time  of  the  last  named  meeting  of  the 
parties  to  be  married. 

The  time  for  the  wedding  having  arrived,  invited 
guests  came  in  from  every  point  of  the  compass,  and 
an  old  fashioned,  sumptuous  feast  was  prepared  for 
the  multitude. 

The  pair  wrere  married,  and  hundreds  of  earnest,  honest 
congratulations  were  showered  upon  the  newly  wedded 
couple. 

Robert  took  his  bride  to  the  town  of  W—  — ,  in 
which  he  had  located,  and  they  at  once  began  house 
keeping. 

"There  it  is  again,"  says  the  disappointed  reader. 
"Not  through  one  chapter  yet,  and  the  parties  to  the 
story  are  being  married  off  and  consigned  to  obscurity, 


24  WHAT  NEXT? 

almost  as  if  romance  were  made  up  of  nothing  more 
than  short  courtships,  and  a  stepping  out  of  society,  and 
out  of  sight  upon  the  part  of  those  whose  history  we 
were  following  as  veritable  heroes  and  heroines." 

Stay  your  criticism,  and  do  not  grow  petulant,  kind 
reader.  Did  you  find  anything  wrong  in  the  character 
of  either  Robert  Parsons  or  Lucy  Orr?  Do  you  not 
think  they  were  good  stock?  Do  you  not  think  they 
would  fairly  represent  the  best  class  of  people  of  their 
time  ?  You  do  ?  Then  let  me  say  to  you  these  persons 
are  the  parents  of  the  individual,  who,  at  least  in  part, 
is  to  figure  somewhat  conspicuously  in  the  future  of 
this  story. 

Some  splendid  writers  of  romance,  after  leading 
their  readers  to  become  most  profoundly  interested  in 
the  outcome  of  their  stories,  in  the  issues  of  the 
dramas  wherein  their  stars  play  their  roles,  and  after  - 
leading  their  readers  through  a  pathetic,  and  often  truly 
thrilling  and  long-drawn-out  storjT,  seem  themselves  to 
grow  weary  of  carrying  their  actors  further,  and,  in 
order  to  rid  themselves  of  the  necessity  of  writing  a 
longer  novel,  they  toss  the  leader  of  the  word-painted 
history  into  a  flooded  mill-pond,  or  dump  him  into  a 
river  as  the  finale  to  their  part  of  the  play. 

Therefore,  criticising  reader,  having  noted  this,  atten 
tion  is  called  to  the  fact  that  instead  of  drowning  any  of 
my  characters,  I  get  rid  of  them  by  marrying  them  off 
and  then  forsaking  them  and  leaving  them  to  the  ten 
der  mercies  of  the  guesser  and  oblivion. 

If  this  narrative  contained  what  transpired  within 
the  comparatively  brief  period  of  a  few  years,  the  fore 
going  criticism  might  be  considered  altogether  just. 
But,  when  it  is  remembered  that  this  story  is,  for  a 


WHAT  NEXT?  25 

definite  purpose,  made  to  cover  a  period  running 
through  more  than  three  generations,  the  cited  criti 
cism  seems  to  be  ill-advised. 

It  is  true  that  already  in  this  history  we  have  had 
our  attention  drawn  to  three  weddings.  But  these 
marriages  were  not  made  to  take  place  with  a  view  of 
ridding  ourselves  of  the  participants  therein,  but  sim 
ply  to  introduce  them  to  the  presence  of  the  reader, 
that  he,  or  she,  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  genuine, 
untitled,  true  nobility. 

The  parties  thus  alluded  to,  when  married,  have 
been  put  aboard  of  a  connubial  boat  and  set  afloat,  to 
try  the  winds  and  tempt  the  storms  of  a  matrimonial 
sea.  We  did  not  follow  them  till  their  crafts  found  a 
harbor  in  which  to  anchor,  but  somewhere,  in  the 
realms  of  everlasting  peace,  somewhere,  in  a  haven 
where  storms  never  come,  and  where  there  is  no  night 
these  vessels  made  their  landing  in  the  long,  long  ago. 


CHAPTER  II. 

'Of  nil  the  joys  that  brighten  suffering  earth, 
What  joy  IB  welcom'd  like  a  new-born  child?" 

— Norton. 

'Something  ot  youth,  I,  in  old  age  approve 
But  more  the  marks  of  age  in  youth  I  love." 

— Deiihiitn. 

Robert  Parsons  was   living  in  the  town 
of  W—  -  a  son  was  born  to  his  wife,  and 

in  honor  of  a  very  dear  friend  of  the  wife,  that 
son  received  the  name  which  the  unbelieving 
Zacharias,  of  biblical  history,  gave  to  the  first  born  of 
his  faithful  Elizabeth.  Only  a  short  time  after  the 
advent  of  this  little  stranger,  even  before  the  weaning 
time  came,  the  young  Parsons  family  moved  to  an  adja 
cent  county,  of  which  county,  mention  has  already 
been  made.  Here  little  John,  for  such  was  his  name, 
of  course,  grew,  crowed  and  flourished.  Mrs.  Parsons 
thought  him  a  "  'marvel'  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever." 
Mr.  Parsons  was  not  inclined  to  dispute  the  question  ; 
so,  rather  than  give  offense  to  one  he  so  greatly  loved, 
he  submitted  to  the  madam's  assertion  and  let  the 
matter  go  at  that. 

John's  babyhood  does  not  demand  any  further  special 
attention  at  our  hands.  That  he  grew  to  a  sprightly 
little  boy,  that  he  was  good  looking,  and  that  he  was 
superior  to  the  average  boy,  Mrs.  Parsons  confidently 
believed.  Other  folks  did  not  regard  him  as  a  prodigy, 
either  physically,  facially,  or  mentally.  That  he  was 
an  ordinarily  good-looking  boy  no  one  denied;  that  he 
possessed  the  intelligence  which  boys  of  his  age  ordi 
narily  exhibited,  none  disputed. 


WHAT  NEXT?  27 

This  latest  scion  of  the  Parsons  family  was  tenderly 
and  carefully  nurtured.  He  really  had  a  double  set  of 
tutors.  His  parents  and  his  grand-parents  all  leant  a 
helping  hand  in  promoting  the  growth  and  develop 
ment  of  the  little  John,  both  physically  and  mentally. 
In  addition  to  these  advantages,  his  mother  had  a 
younger  sister  who  was  the  very  embodiment  of  every 
virtue  that  humankind  can  wear.  Under  such  sur 
roundings  the  son,  grand-son  and  nephew,  three  in  one, 
would  have  been  a  crude  piece  of  humanity  indeed,  if 
the  influences,  coming  to  him  from  these  three  sources, 
had  failed  to  have  a  refining  effect  upon  his  develop 
ing  nature. 

John  Parsons  spent  a  considerable  part  of  his  early 
boyhood  with  his  grand-parents,  and  from  them  learned 
very  much  of  a  particular  kind  of  history,  of  which  no 
subsequent  reading  could  have  imparted  a  knowledge. 

The  house  in  which  the  maternal  grand-parents  of 
him  whose  future  'was  so  often  predicted  as  bound  to 
eventuate  in  something  good  for  himself  and  country, 
was,  for  the  time  in  which  it  was  built,  quite  a  pre 
tentious  building.  It  was,  in  kind,  what  was  called 
a  hewed  log  house.  The  joists  for  the  second  and 
third  floors  were  planed  and  beaded.  The  flooring  for 
these  stories  was  planed  on  the  under  side  and  also 
beaded,  so  as  to  present  a  handsome  finish  from 
beneath.  Every  nail  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
building  was  made  on  a  blacksmith's  anvil.  The  shingles 
wrere  rived  out  of  the  very  best  quality  of  black  walnut 
and  smoothed  with  a  drawing-knife.  To  put  them  on, 
as  a  roof,  each  shingle  was  bored,  and  fastened  with  a 
wooden  pin. 


28  WHAT  NEXT? 

In  this  building,  and  in  its  environment,  the  grand 
son,  whose  history  was  at  no  distant  day  to  begin  its 
larger  development,  spent  the  most  of  his  time. 

There  were,  as  we  already  know,  Negro  slaves  in  the 
Orr  family,  and  as  the  garments  with  which  to  clothe 
these  Negroes  had  to  be  made  in  the  family,  and  on  a 
hand  loom,  the  grand-son,  though  quite  young,  who  was 
a  regular  walking  interrogation  point,  consequently 
familiarized  himself  with  the  manufacture  of  jeans, 
from  the  time  of  sheep  shearing  until  the  cloth 'was 
cut,  to  be  made  into  garments,  to  be  presented  to  the 
Negro  men  and  boys  on  Christmas  morning,  and  the 
linsey,  a  combination  of  linen  and  wool,  which  was 
made  into  dresses  for  the  women  and  girls.  Nor  did 
his  education  along  this  line  stop  here.  His  inves 
tigations  continued  from  the  time  the  flax  passed 
through  the  flax-break  till  a  part  of  it  appeared  as 
flax  linen,  and  a  part  as  tow  linen,  the  finer-flax 
linen  as  material  for  making  "breeches"  for  the 
white  men  of  the  family  and  the  tow  linen  for 
the  Negroes.  In  fact,  such  was  the  amount  of  infor  - 
mation  which  this  boy  gained  from  his  surroundings, 
questionings  and  observation,  that  what  he  learned 
concerning  those  matters  would  make  a  respectable 
little  volume. 

The  inside  history  of  those  times  is  traditional, 
verbal,  and  in  the  no  very  distant  future,  when  some  one 
gleans  some  of  the  facts  from  the  mists  of  obscurity, 
and  repeats  them,  he  will  be  credited  with  telling  a 
tale  as  wondrous  as  "The  Arabian  Nights." 

While  John  Parsons  was  growing  and  maturing, 
other  members  were  being  added  to  his  father's  family, 
until  that  family  consisted  eventually,  of  quite  a  num 
ber  of  son  sand  daughters. 


WHAT  NEXT?  29 

To  say  that  this  family  with  its  wealth  of  children, 
was  the  possessor  of  a  sufficiency  of  common  worldly 
shekels  to  make  it  appear  that  Mammon  had  given 
the  family  especial  oversight,  would  be  contradicted 
by  the  facts.  Mr.  Robert  Parsons  was  not  rich. 

To  say  that  the  condition  of  his  family  was  such  as  to 
excite  the  sympathy,  or  elicit  an  expression  of  pity, 
upon  the  part  of  his  neighbors,  would  be  to  greatly 
overdraw  the  picture.  Mr.  Parsons  was  far  from  being 
a  pauper,  and  the  intelligence,  virtue  and  industry  of 
his  children,  none  of  whom  were  grown,  would  have 
made  an  honest  living  for  the  household  even  had  the 
father  been  unable  to  render  them  any  assistance. 

Human  purity  is  sometimes  the  bed-fellow  of  human 
poverty ;  but  it  by  no  means  necessarily  follows  that 
human  purity,  human  honesty,  or  human  justice  can 
exist  nowhere  else,  except  in  the  immediate  compan 
ionship  of  penury.  There  is  possibly  a  larger  share  of 
these  virtues  found  among  that  class  of  people  who 
are  neither  burdened  by  riches  nor  pinched  by  poverty. 
Avarice  and  cupidity  can  never  act  the  role  of  the 
Good  Samaritan  upon  money  that  has  been  dishonestly 
acquired,  or  fraudulently  wrenched  from  the  hands  of 
the  poor. 

Mr.  Robert  Parsons  was  certainly  not  rich,  as  the 
world  counts  riches ;  but,  in  some  respects  he  was  the 
possessor  of  untold  wealth,  a  real  millionaire  in  the 
aggregate  amount  of  goodness  that  found  a  place  in 
his  unostentatious  home.  He  was  a  prudent,  temper 
ate,  pious  and  industrious  mechanic.  His  name,  in 
the  section  of  the  country  in  which  he  lived,  was  a 
synonym  for  uprightness.  No  spot  had  ever  marred 
the  escutcheon  of  his  history.  Pollution's  touch  had 


30  WHAT  NEXT? 

left  no  stain  upon  his  unsullied  life.  Kind  to  a  fault, 
if  ever  idolatry  was  a  virtue  in  the  eyes  of  Heaven, 
that  father's  devotion  to  his  children  has  long 
stood  to  his  credit,  in  the  great  hook  of  assizes.  Lega 
cies  of  lands,  goods  and  chattels  may  be  inherited 
from  paternal  estates,  which  bring  with  them  much 
temporal  comfort,  and  sometimes  temporal  trouble  ; 
but  the  legacy  which  Robert  Parsons  was  laboring  to 
build  for  his  immediate  posterit}T  was  one  of  unwith- 
ering  moral  worth,  left  to  be  embalmed  in  the  memory 
of  his  children. 

Flattery  is  something  which  this  pen  would  not, 
knowingly,  leave  as  a  transcript  of  folly.  The  world, 
in  its  unthoughted  levity,  mny  deal  in  flattery,  but  in 
writing  of  matters  of  memory,  which  lie  near  the  sanc 
tuary  of  the  soul,  the  pen  should  leave  in  its  tracings 
nothing  other  than  frank  truthfulness.  When,  there 
fore,  I  speak  of  the  mother  of  the  family,  of  which 
young  John  Parsons  was  one,  as  being  the  living 
embodiment  of  devotional  piety  and  motherly  affec 
tion,  I  state  what  was  true.  This  was  exemplified  in 
the  daily  life  of  a  most  excellent  woman.  No  sacrifice 
was  too  great  for  her  to  make  in  the  interest  of  her 
children.  To  them  and  to  her  husband  her  life  seemed 
to  have  been  consecrated,  and  there  was  little  else,  her 
conscientious  discharge  of  religious  duty  excepted,  that 
occupied  her  time  and  attention.  Careful  and  prayer 
ful  watchfulness  of  her  flock  of  children  was  the  sum- 
mum  bonum  of  her  life.  Her  sons,  as  well  as  her 
daughters,  were  healthy,  hearty,  full  of  the  spirit  of 
good  humor  and  contentment.  All  of  them  were  pro 
foundly  respectful  to  parental  authority,  as  well  as 
polite  and  kind  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other. 


WHAT  NEXT?  31 

Few  homes,  I  presume,  could  have  been  found,  in  which 
there  dwelt  a  greater  share  of  amity  and  filial  affec 
tion  than  existed  in  the  home  of  Robert  Parsons. 
These  children  were  wont,  when  not  employed,  to 
engage  in  blithesome  innocent  sport,  and  while  they 
were  yet  in  the  hey-day  of  their  lives,  and  were  accus 
tomed  to  gather  about  the  family  hearthstone  in  the 
winter  evening  time,  to  pass  the  flying  hours  in  pleas 
ure  of  their  own  making,  methinks  it  must  have  been 
such  a  scene  as  this  that  crowded  in  upon  the  lucid 
imagination  of  Scotland's  poet  laureate,  poor  Bobby 
Burns,  and  waked  his  lyre  to  sing: 

"  From  scenes  like  these  old  Sciotia's  grandeur  springs 
That  makes  her  loveil  at  home  rever'd  abroad  : 
Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kin^s — 
'An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God' ; 
Andcertes,  in  fair  virtue's  heavenly  road, 
The  cottage  leaves  the  palace  far  behind  ; 
what  is  a  lordling's  pomp?  a  cumbrous  load, 
Dis^iiisinj^-  oft  the  wretch  of  human  kind, 
Studied  marts  of  hell,  in  wickedness  refined." 

The  mental  development  of  the  boy,  John  Parsons, 
while  he  was  yet  in  his  teens,  had  had  partic 
ular  attention  paid  thereto.  The  refining  influence  of 
a  most  excellent  grand-mother,  the  especial  oversight 
and  training  of  his  devoted  mother,  the  attractive 
lessons  of  purity  which  he  had  learned  'from  the  lips  of 
his  younger  maternal  aunt,  who  whispered  them  into 
his  juvenile  ears,  or  sang  them  with  flute-like  melody 
that  reached  his  young  heart,  all,  all  conspired  to 
awaken  in  the  mind  of  the  boy  a  longing  for  knowl 
edge. 

Being  the  oldest  of  the  children  in  the  Parsons 
family,  the  other  scions  thereof  were  disposed  to  regard 
him,  as  in  some  respects,  a  superior.  That  he  was  the 
acknowledged  favorite  of  the  household  was  evident. 
This  favoritism,  I  presume,  grew  out  of  the  fact  of  his 
approaching  manhood. 


32  WHAT  NEXT? 

John  was  sent  to  the  best  schools  which  the  town 
afforded,  and  made  fair  progress,  first  in  his  efforts  as 
a  tyro  in  letters,  and  subsequently  as  a  student  in 
academic  work.  But  as  a  neophyte  in  his  scholastic 
work,  he  was  not  especially  brilliant.  What  he  lacked, 
however,  in  aptitude,  he  more  than  compensated  for, 
in  his  continuity  of  purpose.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
such  word  in  his  practical  lexicon  as  "can't."  Some  of 
his  classmates,  in  certain  studies,  were  readier  than 
he,  but  in  the  outcome,  John  was  not  often  behind  the 
foremost.  He  recognized  the  fact  that  the  years  were 
crawling  up  on  him,  and  that  what  he  proposed  to  do, 
in  [the  way  of  educating  himself,  must  be  done 
speedily. 

The  common  schools  which  young  Parsons  attended 
were  presided  over  almost  exclusively  by  what  were 
Called  Yankee  pedagogues,  and  Yankee  school-marms, 
and  some  of  these  important  dispensers  of  erudition  to 
the  young  folks  of  John's  country  were  skillful  teachers, 
and  he  was  ever  eager  to  drink  to  the  full,  from  the 
fountain  to  which  these  Yankees  invited  their  pupils, 
and  among  the  number  thus  invited,  no  one  was  more 
eager  to  forge  his  way  to  the  front  than  was  John 
Parsons. 

The  reason  for  the  importation  of  these  teachers 
from  tthe  East  was  necessity.  This  necessity  did  not 
exist  because  Kentucky  did  not  have  men  and  women 
of  talent  and  education  sufficient  to  fill,  and  creditably 
fill,  the  place  occupied  by  "Down  Easters." 

As  a  proof  that  the  foregoing  statement  is 
correct,  I  need  only  cite  the  reader  to  the  historical 
fact,  that  Kentucky  played  a  conspicuous  part  in  every 
State  and  national  affair  of  that  time  which  called  for 
talent  and  scholarly  attainment. 


WHAT  NEXT?  33 

Looking  for  the  true  reason  why  the  young  men  and 
women  of  that  time  and  in  our  State,  did  not  enter 
the  educational  field  as  teachers,  we  find  it  in 
the  following  facts,  namely :  There  was  the  prevalence 
of  a  kind  of  false  pride,  during  the  time  alluded  to,  and 
that  false  pride  counted  the  calling  of  a  teacher  as  one 
that  was  necessarily  humiliating,  a  calling  beneath  the 
aspirations  of  a  high-toned  Southerner.  In  other  words, 
Kentuckians  chose  to  hire  Yankees  to  do  that  which 
Kentuckians  might  have  done,  but  which  they  would 
not  do  because  of  a  false  pride. 

With  an  eye  wide  open  to  passing  events,  during  the 
administration  of  these  Eastern  teachers,  the  question 
forced  itself  upon  the  mind  of  young  Parsons,  that, 
provided  the  gathering  of  knowledge  was  one  of  the 
grandest  and  best  purposes  of  life,  why  it  was,  that  he 
or  she,  who  came  bringing  the  means  to  secure  an 
education,  should  not  be  considered  a  harbinger  of  good 
and  a  herald  of  mercy. 

One  thing  seemed  to  be  apparent  to  the  young  man, 
in  his  investigation  of  this  subject,  which  was  that  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  people  in  moderate  circum 
stances,  in  his  country,  were  not  sufficiently  versed, 
even  in  common  English,  to  fill  the  places  of  teachers 
in  the  common  schools  ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  planters  and  rich  merchants, 
who  had  been  thoroughly  educated,  had  never  felt  the 
necessity  of  stooping  from  their  affluent  surroundings 
to  engage  in  the  honorable  calling  of  teaching  those 
who  had  been  less  fortunate  than  they. 

Education  among  the  masses  had  not  become  suffi 
ciently  general,  as  yet,  to  even  expect  or  predict  the 

WHAT  NEXT? — 3. 


34  WHAT  NEXT? 

attainment  of  a  result,  which,  if  reached,  would 
institute  a  new  era  in  matters  educational  in  the  State. 
Barring  the  fact  that  pride  might  have  played  an 
important  part  in  the  loss  of  such  help  as  would  have 
been  valuable  in  pushing  forward  the  general 
prosperity  of  the  country,  Parsons  still  wondered 
that  a  liberal  education  of  those  who  were  able 
to  bear  the  expense  did  not  produce  a  better 
effect.  That  there  should  have  been  a  total  indisposi 
tion  upon  the  part  of  young  Kentuckians  to  engage  in 
teaching,  except  as  the  occupant  of  a  chair  in  a 
college,  or  as  the  incumbent  of  a  highly  remunerative 
position  in  an  academy  or  seminar}7,  was  to  young 
Parsons  a  matter  of  surprise. 

There  were  man}7  honorable  positions  to  be  filled, 
but  there  were  none  to  fill  them  except  they  be  import 
ed,  and  the  populace  said,  in  the  language  of  the  man 
of  Galilee,  "The  harvest  truly  is  plenteous,  but  the 
laborers  are  few." 

Liberal  paternal  contributions  had  been  made  to 
many  of  the  sons  of  splendid  parents,  whereby  they 
had  been  put  in  possession  of  such  qualifications  as 
would  have  insured  them  success,  had  they  turned  their 
attention  to  teaching  in  the  common  schools  of  the 
country.  But,  with  diplomas  in  hand,  they  stood  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder,  nor  dared  to  step  at  all,  because 
there  was  nothing  in  reach  save  the  first  round  in  that 
aid  to  climbing. 

Parsons  noticed  the  existing  state  of  affairs,  as  indi 
cated  in  the  foregoing  paragraph,  and,  although  but  a 
boy  in  years,  he  became  convinced  that  there  was  a 
radical  defect  in  the  system  of  education,  and  that  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  35 

defect  lay  outside  of  the  school  or  college  curriculum. 
That  it  was  a  defect  which  prejudice  had  hatched,  and 
which  pride  was  nursing. 

But  for  his  youthfulness,  and  an  indisposition  to 
seem  to  be  forward  or  presumptuous,  the  youthful 
seeker  after  truth  might  have  been  found  in  the  arena, 
with  severe  written  criticisms,  and  justifiable  animad 
versions  against  the  character  of  supercilious  pride 
which  kept  the  well  qualified  young  people  of  the 
country  which  he  loved  from  entering  the  field  of  use 
ful  labor,  and  aiding  in  trying  to  lift  the  ignorant  to  a 
position  of  more  respected  citizenship. 

In  physical  proportions  Parsons  would  have  been  a 
model  of  symmetry,  but  for  the  fact  that  he  was  a  little 
under-weight  for  his  height.  He  was  willowy  and  lithe 
of  body,  and  being  as  straight  as  an  Indian,  his  carri 
age  was  elastic  and  erect.  He  was  exceedingly  active, 
and  very  fleet  of  foot.  To  have  matched  him,  in  one 
particular,  would  have  been  a  very  hard  task,  that  is, 
to  have  found  a  man  whose  difference  of  chest  and 
waist  measurement  was  as  great  as  his.  John's  eyes 
were  black,  brilliantly  so ;  his  hair,  in  shading,  did  not 
rival  the  glossy  blackness  of  the  raven's  wing,  but 
ebony  could  claim  but  little  the  advantage  of  it  in  its 
dark  shading.  Nature  had  endowed  him  with  a  well 
shaped  head  and  a  rather  attractive  countenance. 

To  say  that  this  party,  to  whose  personal  history  we 
have  now  been  introduced,  was  a  handsome  young 
man,  would  be  more  than  the  writer  would  be  willing 
to  assert.  Especially  would  he  feel  disinclined  to  make 
this  assertion,  with  the  expression  of  the  Latin 
quotation  ringing  in  our  ears,  " De  gustibus  non  disput- 
adum." 


36  WHAT  NEXT? 

But  while  the  criticism  I  have  made  in  regard  to 
John  Parsons,  is,  I  think,  in  the  main  correct,  I 
presume  I  might  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  quoting 
the  verdict  of  some  of  the  severest  critics  in  all  the 
country.  The  verdict  was  rendered  by  a  young  lady 
who  was  a  candidate  for  matrimonial  honors,  and 
which  verdict  was  assented  to  by  a  number  of  girls 
who  were  listeners  to  the  decision  of  the  chief  speaker 
upon  the  occasion.  That  such  critics  are  severe  is 
an  acknowledged  fact.  But,  while  there  is  no  special 
reason  for  wishing  to  reverse  their  verdict,  being 
rather  disposed  to  acquiesce  therein,  it  might  be 
well  to  remember  the  statement  that  these  young 
ladies  were  of  marriagable  ages,  for  we  surely 
know  that  John  Parsons  was  a  long  way  from  the 
attainment  of  his  majority.  But  to  their  verdict.  It 
was  this:  ''That  because  of  the  symmetry  of  form, 
the  handsome  appearance,  and  the  urbanity  of  his 
bearing  he  was  destined  at  no  very  distant  day  to  set 
some  girl's  heart  in  a  flutter,  that  would  not  be  still  at 
her  bidding." 

This  little  peep  at  the  portraiture  of  John  Parsons, 
as  set  forth  in  the  verdict  of  the  young  marriagable 
girls,  ought  probably  to  be  viewed  with  some  degree  of 
suspicion. 

It  is  an  accepted  truth,  I  believe,  that  young  ladies 
fully  grown,  think  they  have  a  kind  of  moral  or  divine 
right  to  compliment  or  even  flatter  a  j'oung  man  whose 
tender  years  are  a  protection  against  the  snare  which 
Venus  suggests  in  husband  hunting.  In  other  words, 
it  is  like  the  privilege  which  even  a  modest  girl,  yet  in 
her  teens,  will  exercise,  in  daring  to  kiss  a  handsome 
boy  of  four  or  five  years  of  age. 


WHAT  NEXT?  37 

This  explanation  of  the  finding  of  the  young  ladies, 
before  whose  court  the  case  of  their  really^undeveloped 
subject  of  criticism  was  brought  for  an  opinion,  may 
change  the  status  of  John's  leading  characteristics,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  casual  reader.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
Parsons  was.  at  that  time,  too  young  to  have 
been  liable  to  special  criticism  as  to  his  person, 
manner  or  mind,  too  young  to  justify  any  specific 
prophecy  with  regard  to  his  future.  Something 
further  was  needed  to  be  known  relative  to  the 
characteristics  and  life  of  the  young  man  in  order 
to  see  what  there  was  of  the  real  man  in  embryo  life, 
in  the  boy. 

Cowardice  is  an  epithet  that  is  applicable  to  the 
craven,  while  gentlemanly  timidity  may  be  a  distin 
guishing  feature  of  a  trul}7  noble  specimen  of  developing 
manhood.  The  word  timidity  as  here  used,  must 
therefore  not  be  confounded  with  fear  of  physical  danger. 
The  one  may  be  regarded  as  a  moral  quality,  while 
the  other  bears  a  more  immediate  relation  to  the  body. 

A  conscious  sense  of  life  devoid  of  wrong  to  self  or 
neighbor,  the  honest  conviction  that  a  life,  so  far, 
had  been  lived  in  harmony  with  paternal  pattern  and 
maternal  counsel,  had  not  been  the-  outgrowth  of 
cowardice.  This  kind  of  a  life  was  largely  the  develop 
ing  effect  of  moral  fear.  With  such  a  life,  developed 
by  such  forces,  the  principle  of  cowardice  must  find 
itself  enervated,  while  a  spirit  of  moral  heroism  grad 
ually  supplants  it,  and  becomes  the  dominant  principle 
of  the  soul. 

But  Parsons  had  an  undue  degree  of  self-distrust-^.. 
Indeed  he  had  an  amount  of  timidity  that  was 
almost  equal  to  the  coyish  bashfulness  of  a  seques- 


38  WHAT  NEXT? 

tered  girl,  differing  little  from  hers  in  quality  or 
quantity.  But  this  was  nothing  to  his  discredit. 
The  trait  of  character,  it  is  true,  was  misinterpreted 
by  his  school-fellows,  and  was  supposed  by  them, 
until  the  error  was  stubbornly  corrected,  to  be 
an  evidence  of  cowardice.  While  the  young  men 
among  his  associates  mistook  John's  timidity  for  a 
want  of  pluck  and  spirit,  the  more  mature  thinkers  in 
his  section  of  country  could  not  withhold  their  expres 
sions  of  admiration  for  this  feature  of  the  young 
man's  deportment.  Nay  more;  they  even  made 
it  the  basis  of  favorable  predictions,  and  claimed  that 
it  presaged  something  good  in  the  history  of  the  young 
man  in  the  years  to  come. 

Ambition  and  energy  can  always  find  that  "where 
there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way,"  that  where  there  is  a 
furrow  to  be  run  in  the  direction  of  success  that  he 
who  holds  the  handles  of  the  plough  and  makes  the 
coulter  strike  strong  and  deep,  will  turn  up  success. 

John  Parsons  was  full  of  energy.  He  had  put  his 
hand  to  the  plough  and  his  ambition  contemplated  no 
compromise  with  failure.  He  finished  a  fair  course, 
with  credit  to  himself,  in  the  common  school  of  his 
town,  and  then  entered  college  and  commenced  a 
course  of  study  full  heavy  for  his  physical  endurance. 
But  the  young  man  staggered  not  under  the  load.  By 
patient  and  untiring  industry  and  perseverance  he 
finished  his  course  as  the  first  honor  student  of  his 
class  and  of  course  was  the  valedictorian. 

To  an  ambitious  youth  graduation  day  is  a  moment 
ous  occasion,  for  the  reason  that  upon  that  day  the 
scholastic  life  ends,  and  the  real  active,  persistent  work 
of  a  new  life-era  begins. 


WHAT  NEXT?  39 

The  best  education  that  the  best  institutions  of  our 
country  can  give,  convey  therewith  no  gift  of  prophecy, 
nor  do  they  confer  any  talisman,  through  whose  power 
of  divination,  success,  in  any  and  everything  under 
taken,  is  certainly  secured.  It  was  especially  a  most 
important  occasion  for  John  Parsons.  Other  young 
men  might  graduate,  who  had  something  to  sustain 
them  until  openings  presented  themselves  for  their 
entering  upon  some  character  of  work  that  would  give 
them  a  living.  Not  so  with  John  Parsons.  A  longing, 
half  hopeful,  anxious  wish,  as  the  last  amen  of  his 
Commencement  Day  fell  upon  his  ears,  was  that  some 
one  might  offer  him  something  to  do,  whereby  the 
exhausted  condition  of  his  exchequer  might  be  replen 
ished.  He  had  made  his  last  draft  upon  his  father 
that  he  felt  he  could  conscientiously  make.  The  care 
and  support  of  a  large  family  rested  upon  that  father,  and 
John  felt,  though  he  was  a  little  discouraged,  he  would 
not  allow  himself  to  be  cast  down  or  become  dispirit 
ed.  He  felt  that  with  his  graduation  the  last  link  that 
bound  him  to  boyish  life  had  been  severed,  and  that 
manly  duties  must  claim  his  attention. 

The  valedictory  address  of  Parsons  was  well  worded, 
well  delivered  and  well  received.  His  friends  were 
quite  profuse  in  their  congratulatory  compliments.  Not 
a  few  were  so  outspoken  in  their  laudatory  praise  of 
his  oratory,  his  diction,  his  inflections  and  his  general 
style  of  speaking,  that  their  praise  brought  the  blush 
to  his  cheeks  ;  still  he  was  happy  in  his  acknowledg 
ment  of  all  these  gratulatory  remarks,  and  felt  just  a 
bit  proud  over  his  seeming  success. 

There  were  persons  who  had  known  Parsons  from 
infancy,  and  had  been  fully  advised  of  his  orderly 


40  WHAT  NEXT? 

walk  and  general  bearing  as  a  3*outh,  who  had  failed, 
up  to  the  time  of  the  delivery  of  his  graduating  address, 
to  recognize  him.  They  did  not  regard  him  as  of  the 
kind  of  material  to  be  introduced  into  their  "set." 
But  now  that  he  had  struck  a  light  that  was  making 
himself  attractive,  these  stiff,  stilted  specimens  of 
purse-proud  humanity  stepped  forward,  and  had  the 
condescension  to  give  him  commendatory  praise, 
backed  by  approving  smiles. 

All  this  was  well.  It  taught  John  an  important 
lesson.  It  served  to  show,  that,  despite  the  rigid  and 
starch}'  display  of  Mammon's  priesthood,  there  was 
that  in  an  honest  effort  to  climb  to  the  position  of 
true  manhood  that  took  the  stiffness  out  of  their 
rigorous  plutocracy,  and  the  starch  out  of  their  better- 
than-you  vestments. 

John  was  rather  an  apt  learner,  and  on  that  day,  he 
had  two  matters  of  importance  upon  his  mind  for 
consideration.  He  had  finished  his  academic  course,  and 
the  first  question  which  bore  immediately  upon  the 
present  was,  to  what  use  he  could  put  the  education 
he  had  acquired,  and  the  second  was,  in  what  field 
would  he  be  able  to  find  employment. 

These  were  questions  that  the  young  collegian  had 
previous!}"  conned  over  and  over  again,  but  now  that  the 
last  link  in  the  chain  which  bound  him,  as  a  seeming 
dependant,  upon  the  help  of  others,  had  been  severed, 
and  the  questions  mentioned  forced  themselves  upon  his 
consideration  writh  an  unwonted  degree  of  persistency. 

Even  in  the  very  midst  of  the  excitement,  the  bustle, 
the  confusion,  and  the  interchanges  of  criticism  inci 
dent  to  the  occasion,  and  while  John's  classmates  were 
jubilant  over  their  triumphs,  the  heart  of  the  valedic- 


WHAT  NEXT?  41 

torian  beat  to  the  music  of  neither  hope  nor  promise. 
The  outlook  for  him  he  considered  unfavorable.  If  he 
had  the  means  with  which  to  enter  upon  the  study  of 
a  profession,  no  pulse,  in  all  that  assembly,  would 
have  beaten  a  livelier  tattoo  of  gladness  than  that  of 
John  Parsons.  Poor  fellow  !  He  was  not  only  without 
anything  definite  to  which  he  could  look  as  a  means  of 
livelihood,  but  he  even  was  handicapped  by  a  debt 
which  he  had  assumed  as  payment  upon  his  tuition 
in  college. 

The  President  of  the  institution,  in  the  goodness  of  his 
charitable  heart,  having  discovered  that  there  was  some 
genuine,  real  worth,  as  well  as  some  sprightliness  in 
young  Parsons,  and  having  discovered  that  the  lack 
of  means  to  defray  expenses  of  tuition  was  likely  to 
bar  the  entrance  of  the  young  man  to  the  college, 
very  generously  offered  to  allow  him  the  privilege  of 
matriculating,  with  the  understanding  that  the  incurred 
bill  should  be  paid  in  the  future,  no  definite  time 
being  specified. 

Grand  as  was  John's  graduation  day  for  him,  it  had 
a  termination.  The  band  ceased  to  play.  The  large 
assembly  of  people  who  had  been  interested  on-lookers 
during  the  day's  exercises,  and  who  had  regarded  the 
first  honor  student  as  the  most  conspicuous  figure  of 
the  occasion,  had  all  dispersed. 

The  excitement  was  over,  and  like  the  calm  which 
waits  in  the  wake  of  the  storm,  quiet  seemed  to  assume 
its  sway  everywhere.  One  thing  was  observable,  even 
in  the  midst  of  the  reigning  quietude  of  that  afternoon 
It  was  this ;  while  Parsons  was  unobtrusively 
wending  his  way  down  the  street  on  which  his  home 
was  located,  as  he  passed  groups  of  young  people  on 


42  WHAT  NEXT? 

the  sidewalk,  there  were  more  bows  made  to  him  than 
usual  by  gentlemen  acquaintances,  and  more  pleasant 
smiles  and  approving  nods  brought  into  play  by  the 
young  ladies  whom  he  knew,  than  he  had  ever  noticed 
before.  To  all  these  salutations  Parsons  returned  a 
courteous  recognition.  A  gentleman  by  instinct,  he 
could  have  done  nothing  less. 

When  John  reached  home,  his  father  gave  him  the 
warm,  and  well  understood  grasp  of  the  hand  which 
indicated  paternal  pride,  and  paternal  approval;  while 
the  mother  only  waited  to  clasp  him  in  her  arms,  and 
imprint  a  passionate  kiss  upon  his  now  trembling  lips. 
This  part  of  his  home  greeting  was  followed  up  by  a 
manifested  pride  on  the  part  of  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
from  the  eldest,  down  to  the  little  curly  haired  sister 
who  joined  in  the  general  spirit  of  gladness,  without 
knowing  any  reason  for  it,  except  that  John  was  her 
big  brother. 

After  the  passing  of  this  little  episode,  John  retired 
into  the  garden,  and  amid  the  flowers  which  his 
mother's  hands  had  nursed,  sought  for  inspiration  that 
would  be  equal  to  the  emergency  of  his  surroundings — 
equal  to  the  solution  of  some  of  the  absorbing  ques 
tions  that  were  lying  heavily  upon  his  heart.  The 
first  inquiry  that  seemed  to  obtrude  itself  upon  the 
consideration  of  our  somewhat  disheartened  hero,  was 
the  question  as  to  how  the  debt,  which  he  owed  to  the 
President  of  the  college,  could  be  met,  and  as  to  how 
remote  the  possibility  of  discharging  that  obligation 
was.  This  was  a  very  serious  question,  and  one  in 
which  the  debtor  believed  was  involved  both  his  honor 
and  honesty.  After  much  deliberation  upon  the  question 
of  his  indebtedness,  he  could  think  of  no  way  he  could 


WHAT  NEXT?  43 

work  himself  out  of  his  dilemma.  He  therefore 
resolved  upon  a  dire  alternative,  and  while  it  was  a 
dire  alternative,  it  was  one  which  was  born  of  honesty. 
The  crucial  test,  by  which  he  proposed  to  free  himself 
from  an  incubus,  the  existing  presence  of  which  he  felt 
would  hold  him  in  perpetual  disquietude,  was  to  carry 
his  burden  of  trouble  into  the  immediate  presence  of 
the  President,  and  there  satisfy  his  own  soul,  by  seek 
ing  an  adjustment  of  the  President's  claim.  This 
determination  being  fully  settled,  Parsons  sought  an 
interview  with  the  President.  This  interview  was 
granted.  When  the  young  debtor  came  into  the  presence 
of  the  educational  sage,  he  most  respectfully  addressed 
him,  and  at  once  made  known  the  object  of  his  visit, 
saying,  "President,  your  kindness  has  brought  me 
under  very  weighty  obligations  to  you.  They  are  of 
such  a  character  as  will  leave  the  impress  of  thankful 
ness  upon  my  heart  as  long  as  the  pulsations  of  that 
heart  shall  continue."  "But,"  continued  Parsons, 
"expressions  of  gratitude,  however  emotional  they  may 
be,  will  not  pay  honest  debts,  and  it  is  with  reference 
to  the  amount  of  my  indebtedness  to  you  that  has 
brought  me  into  your  presence  this  afternoon.  You 
are  doubtless  aware  of  my  pecuniary  circumstances. 
You  therefore  know  my  utter  inability,  at  this  time,  to 
meet  this  obligation.  I  am  not  even  able  to  state  any 
time  in  the  future,  when  I  could  reasonably  expect  to 
pay  you.  But,  you  will  understand  that  I  am  not 
here  with  a  view  to  being  absolved  from  your  claim,  or 
any  part  thereof,  that  I  am  not  here  seeking  to  be 
relieved  from  the  accrued  or  accruing  interest,  or  any  part 
thereof,  that  now  has,  or  at  any  future  time,  may  have 
been  accumulated  upon  your  claim.  No,  kind  friend ; 


44  WHAT  NEXT? 

that  was  no  part  of  the  purpose  I  had  in  mind,  when 
I  determined  upon  this  visit ;  neither  came  I  into  your 
presence  to  more  fully  express  my  thankfulness  for 
your  noble  generosity;  that  thankfulness  I  have  hereto 
fore  expressed,  in  language  that  this  poor,  stammering 
tongue  found  inadequate  to  indicate  or  fully  make 
known.  In  order  therefore,  kind  President,  that 
what  I  have  to  say  may  not  seem  'to  be  too  long 
drawn  out,'  I  want  to  relieve  your  mind,  as  far  as  I 
can,  in  regard  to  the  payment  of  my  debt,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  ease  both  my  mind  and  conscience  by  the 
discharge  of  what  I  conceive  to  be  a  plain  duty.  Hear 
me  then,  please,  and,  for  the  sake  of  mercy,  judge  me 
in  kindness.  I  think  I  have  an  appreciative  sense  of 
honest}-,  and  a  soul  consecrated  to  truth.  I  think 
I  have  an  admiration  for  honor,  instilled  into  my 
boyish  nature  beneath  the  humble  roof-tree  of  my 
earl}7  life.  To  have  a  quit  claim  against  your  present 
demands  I  am  willing  to  mortgage  to  you  my  devotion 
to  honesty  and  my  admiration  for  honor,  and  should 
you  be  under  the  necessity  of  foreclosing  the  mortgage, 
my  body,  in  service  to  you  shall  lift  that  mortgage." 
To  these  short  but  intimately  connected  speeches  the 
President  was  an  interested,  if  not  an  excited  listener, 
and,  after  Parsons  had  indicated  by  a  lengthened 
pause  that  his  part  of  the  talking  had  been  finished, 
the  President,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  said,  "  My  son, 
your  loyalty  to  the  principles  of  right,  your  indomitable 
energy,  in  the  pursuit  of  a  course  of  study  that 
would  prepare  you  for  the  activities  of  life,  your  gener 
ous  and  manly  bearing  towards  every  member  of  the 
faculty,  your  uniform  politeness,  your  suavity  of  man 
ner,  and  last,  though  not  least,  your  triumphant  victory 


WHAT  NEXT?  45 

in  winning  the  honors  of  a  class,  each  one  of  which 
was  a  good  and  faithful  student,  has  discharged  all  debt 
that  either  I  or  the  college  held  against  you.  Mr. 
Parsons,  I  am  convinced  that  you  are  a  genuine  speci- 
man  of  true  and  noble  manhood,  and  I  extend  again 
to  you  my  hand,  in  token  of  my  good  will,  and  would 
invoke  the  benediction  of  Heaven  to  rest  upon  you." 

This  termination  of  John's  visit  to  the  President  was, 
of  course,  a  matter  of  extreme  surprise.  He  little 
thought  of  having  so  severe  a  burden  so  soon  lifted 
from  his  shoulders. 

In  answer  to  the  President's  speech  Parsons'  only 
reply  was,  "There  are  times  when  silence  dis 
counts  the  eloquence  of  speech,  when  language  is  half 
meaningless  in  its  attempts  to  define  the  emotions  of 
the  soul,  when  words  are  insolvents,  in  their  efforts  to 
make  known  what  is  meant,  by  true,  genuine,  whole- 
souled  thankfulness.  Accept,  Mr.  President,  the 
speechless  gratitude  of  a  heart  that  sighs  because  it  is 
dumb,  and  may  the  infinite  arm  of  a  divine  mercy  still 
protect  you  in  blessing  the  world,  for  your  mercy 
seems  never  strained." 

Poor  John  felt  richer  than  he  did  in  the  morning. 
Somehow,  he  seemed  to  have  realized  that  the  goddess 
of  Fortune  had  made  one  turn  in  his  favor,  and  in  half 
impatient  anxiety  he  was  disposed  to  ask,  What  next? 


CHAPTER  III. 


"The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  by  the  soul  with  hooks  of  steel." 

— Shakespeare. 

"True  happiness 

Consists  not  in  the  multitude  of  friends, 
But  in  the  worth  and  choice." 

— Jonson. 


(NOTWITHSTANDING  the  pleasant  interview  which 
John  Parsons  had  with  his  college  President, 
when  he  found  himself  again  alone,  and  he  had  had 
time  for  his  mind  to  retire  within  itself,  and 
make  up  a  kind  of  inventor}'  of  things  generally,  he 
found  himself  a  little  dispirited  over  the  outlook. 
Having  no  monej"  to  invest  in  a  business  which 
would  pay  a  dividend  upon  the  invested  capital, 
he  felt  he  -*-ould  he  compelled  to  embark  in  some 
kind  of  an  enterprise  which  would  not  require 
an  immediate  demand  for  funds.  The  kind  of 
capital  which  John  possessed,  a  good  education,  was 
not  a  thing  upon  which  a  commercial  value  could  be 
placed,  and  consequently,  at  least  in  an  unused  state. 
it  was  valueless,  as  money  could  not  be  borrowed  upon 
intangible  property — property  whose  assets  were  myth 
ical. 

Parsons  placed  a  big  value  upon  his  education,  but 
inasmuch  as  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  realize  any 
profit  from  the  investment  of  valuable  time  and  honest 
brain-work  in  acquiring  his  education,  he  became 
somewhat  discouraged,  and  the  clouds  that  hung  in 
the  horizon  grew  just  one  shade  darker.  He  would 
have  applied  for  a  position  in  one  of  the  schools  of  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  47 

county  in  which  he  lived,   hut  for  his   comparatively 
beardless  youthfulness  and  his  native  timidity.      Both 
of  these  conspired  to  keep  him  from  being  applied  to. 
even  by  those  who  were  fully  advised  as  to  his  capacity, 
and  who  wanted  a  teacher. 

John  felt  he  would  be  equal  to  the  task  of  teaching  a 
school  should  one  be  offered  him,  but  that  he  was  unequal 
to  the  task  of  making  an  application  for  one.  His 
want  of  self-confidence  was  a  bar  to  his  immediate 
success,  for,  had  he  been  bold  enough  to  have  carried 
such  recommendations .  as  those  who  knew  him  best 
would  have  gladly  given  him,  as  advertisements  of 
his  scholarship,  and  general  character  for  integrity  and 
moral  worth,  there  were  places  in  various  sections  of 
the  country,  where  he  would  have  been  kindly  received, 
and  justly  appreciated. 

John's  want  of  combativeness  against  the  force  of 
circumstances,  his  total  ignorance  of  that  spirit  of  ''do 
or  die"  character,  by  which  many  a  human  craft  had 
pushed  its  way  against  wind  and  tide  to  speedy  success, 
wrere  facts  that  continually  militated  against  his  intro 
duction  into  business.  I  think  Cowper  understood  this 
when  he  wrote, 

I  pity  bashful  men,  who  feel  the  pain 
Of  fancied  scorn  and  undeserved  disdain, 
And  bear  the  marks  upon  a  blushing  face 
Of  needless  shame  and  self-imposed  disgrace. 

The  days  of  the  early  summer  wrere  allowed 
to  pass,  and  John  Parsons  made  no  application  for  a 
place  and  no  one  sought  John  Parsons  to  tender  him  a 
position.  He  was  unused  to  idleness  and  chafed  under 
the  ennui. 

Not  long  after  the  discussions  which  John  held  with 
himself  in  regard  to  his  position  in  the  world,  and  the 


48  WHAT  NEXT? 

pros  and  cons  had  all  been  examined,  it  chanced  that 
John,  as  he  was  passing  on  the  street  of  his  town,  was 
hailed  by  a  wealthy  young  lawyer,  who  invited  Parsons 
to  his  office.  John  accepted  the  invitation,  and,  when 
the  two  were  seated,  Mr.  Hampton,  the  lawyer,  began 
the  conversation  by  saying  that  he  had  heard  of  his 
success  in  getting  through  college,  and  had  also  heard 
him  quite  handsomely  complimented  for  his  somewhat 
brilliant  debut,  as  a  young  orator.  "You  know," 
said  he,  "that  oratory  is  an  essential  element  of 
success  in  my  profession,  or  at  least  an  essential 
element  to  the  reputation  of  being  a  brilliant  man. 
Under  any  circumstances,  I  would  have  been  glad  to 
know  that  your  first,  public,  forensic  effort  had  been  a 
success.  But,  as  a  fellow  townsman,  I  was  especially 
glad  to  learn  that  you  had  acquitted  yourself  so 
handsomely."  Mr.  Hampton  then  asked  Parsons  if 
he  had  taken  under  advisement  any  special  plan,  as  a 
proposed  life-work.  "Have  you  thought  of  studying  a 
profession?"  said  the  lawyer. 

After  thanking  Mr.  Hampton,  very  kindly,  for  his 
expression  of  interest  in  his  success,  John  said  to  his 
questioner,  that  he  had  never  given  the  matter  of 
studying  a  profession  any  consideration.  "You  know," 
said  he,  "that  I  was  not  born  under  a  pecuniarily  pro 
pitious  star,  that  no  silver  tinted  offering  was  presented 
upon  my  natal  day,  upon  which  was  an  inscription 
that  presaged  the  bestowal  of  future  wealth.  You 
know,  furthermore,  I  presume,  that  I  have  no  inherit 
ance,  either  present  or  prospective,  with  which  to 
defray  the  expenses,  necessarily  incident  to  the  study 
of  a  profession.  Besides  all  this,"  said  John,  "even  if 
I  had  sufficient  money  to  pay  my  way  through  such  an 


WHAT  NEXT?  49 

undertaking,  I  very  much  doubt  whether  I  possess  that 
peculiar  mental  organism  which  I  think  is  necessary  to 
make  a  first-class  physician,  whether  I  have  the  grip 
that  would  enable  me  to  enter  into  the  laborious  inves 
tigations,  the  careful  researches,  the  analytical  experi 
ments,  required  of  him  who  undertakes  to  tamper  with 
human  life.  As  to  my  preparing  myself  for  your  pro 
fession,  I  feel  that  there  is  one  essential  quality  which 
is  necessan-  to  success  therein,  wherein  I  would  be 
conspicuously  deficient." 

"And  what  is  that?"  said  Mr.  Hampton. 

"My  observation,"  replied  Parsons,  "has  led  me  to 
believe  that  the  speeches  which  attorneys  make  are 
often  in  direct  conflict  with  the  unuttered  pleadings 
which  their  consciences  make.  To  school  myself  to 
practice  what  is  so  frequently  but  an  antagonism 
between  lip  service  and  heart  service,  I  think,  wrould 
be  an  insuperable  difficulty."  "  Pardon  my  criticism," 
Mr.  Hampton,  "it  may  be  unjust." 

"There  is  the  semblance  of  truth  in  what  you  say, 
Mr.  Parsons,  but  there  is  more  justification  in  what  is 
practiced  at  a  legal  bar,  than  appears  upon  the  surface 
or  to  the  superficial  observer." 

"  Being  far  better  informed  in  regard  to  what  law  is, 
\vhat  law  does,  and  what  benefit  the  legal  profession  is 
to  our  common  country,  I  would  most  assuredly  defer 
to  your  opinion,  and  apologize  for  the  criticism  I  have 
made,  and,  by  way  of  palliating  my  mistake,  compli 
ment  the  legal  fraternity,  by  saying  it  is,  I  think, 
generally  conceded,  that  among  professional  men,  a 
less  amount  of  jealousy  is  exhibited  by  lawyers  than 
by  men  of  any  other  vocation,  the  clergy  not  excepted." 

WHAT  NEXT? — 4. 


50  WHAT  NEXT? 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  say,  Mr.  Parsons,  that  your 
position  is  not  well  taken,  and  therefore  accept  your 
compliment,  as  being  one  that  is  just." 

Mr.  Hampton  seemed  to  enjoy  John  Parsons'  some 
what  invidious  distinction  between  those  persons  who 
follow  the  profession  of  law  and  those  who  practice 
medicine  or  teach  theology,  and  kindly  called  atten 
tion  to  the  fact,  that  brain  power  was  always  improved 
by  study  and  experience,  let  the  vocation  be  what  it 
might.  He  further  stated  that  self-confidence  could  be 
acquired  also.  All  that  will  be  needed,  said  he,  is  to 
have  the  rough  rubs  of  the  world  beat  about  you  for  a 
time,  and  you  will  soon  learn  to  answer  a  fool  according 
to  his  folly  to  find  out  that  wit  or  satire,  dealt  out  from 
behind  a  shield  of  "brass,"  may  silence  the  braying 
of  a  Jack-a-nape,  while  reason  alone  is  a  poor  defense 
against  the  wordy  sporting  of  the  pseudo  philosopher. 

"Very  well  said,"  quoth  Parsons.  "I  presume 
experience  is  the  onh"  teacher  that  can  fully  prepare  a 
man  for  any  calling." 

"Yes,  experience  lies  just  along  the  line  of  success, 
and  experience  and  success  are,  in  a  majority  of 
instances,  commensurate.  But  I  shall  have  to  ask 
that  a  truce  be  sounded,  with  criticism,  aswell.as  with 
jesting.  The  object  of  my  seeking  this  interview  with 
you,  Mr.  Parsons,  was  not  to  gratify  idle  curiosity. 
My  motive  for  desiring  to  see  you  was,  that  by 
questioning  you,  I  might  ascertain  something  with 
reference  to  your  future  purpose  in  life,  and,  if  need  be, 
to  offer  you  some  assistance.  If  I  have  not  been 
misinformed,  I  think  the  discovery  of  signs  of  spright- 
liness  in  you  bespeaks  a  bright  future  for  you.  But,  in 
order  to  insure  success,  your  sprightliness  must  be 


WHAT  NEXT?  51 

piloted  in  the  right  direction,  and  your  education,  so 
recently  finished,  must  be  utilized  to  the  best 
advantage." 

"In  regard  to  your  financial  capability,  Mr.  Parsons, 
I  have  only  this  to  say ;  your  condition,  in  this 
particular,  was  known  to  me,  even  before  your  recent 
candid  confession,  and,  but  for  my  possession  of  that 
knowledge,  previous  to  this  interview,  the  present 
meeting  would  not  have  been  sought/' 

Having  thought  the  matter  of  your  environments 
over,  said  Hampton,  I  have  concluded  to  suggest  to 
you  that  you  undertake  the  study  of  law.  With  my 
help,  and  the  help  of  my  library,  I  think  a  young  man 
of  your  talents,  who  is  possessed  of  your  energj7,  could 
scarcely  be  expected  to  make  a  failure.  I  submit  the 
suggestions  to  you,  Mr.  Parsons,  for  your  consideration." 

John  knew  that  the  reputation  which  Mr.  Hampton 
had  for  honor  and  integrity,  as  well  as  the  generally 
accepted  belief  that  he  was  quite  wealthy,  made  the 
presentation  of  any  proposition  he  might  submit,  an 
absolute  verity.  He  had  inherited  a  large  estate,  had 
the  largest  library  in  that  section  of  the  country,  and 
practiced  his  profession  rather  as  a  matter  of  form  than 
for  profit.  He  had  become  interested  in  the  welfare 
of  young  Parsons,  and  was  disposed  to  exhibit  a  good 
degree  of  liberality  in  his  behalf. 

After  reflecting,  but  for  a  moment,  upon  Mr. 
Hampton's  suggestion,  John  said,  "Well,  my  friend,  I 
can  but  conclude  that  there  lies,  only  half  concealed 
beneath  your  suggestion,  an  exemplification  of  unselfish, 
disinterested  kindness.  That  you  should  have  made 
such  an  offer  is  more  than  clever,  that  you  should  have 
made  it  to  one,  to  whom  you  are  under  no  possible 


52  WHAT  NEXT? 

obligations,  clothes  the  suggestion  with  a  mantle  of 
genuine  charity — charity,  such  as  Heaven's  edict  makes 
greater  than  either  faith  or  hope." 

"I  am  only  disposed  to  help  a  worthy  young  man 
who  seems  inclined  to  help  himself,"  replied  Hampton. 
"I  can  therefore  see  no  reason  why  so  simple  an  act  of 
generosity  should  be  magnified  into  an  abounding 
virtue." 

"Well,"  said  Parsons,  you  may  work  out  your  own 
estimate  of  what  there  is  in  your  suggestion,  but  before 
your  mind  is  turned  to  the  mathematical  part  of  the 
question  before  me,  let  me  see  whether  I  fairly 
understand  the  proposition  which  I  suppose  is  to  flow 
out  of  your  suggestion." 

"You  have  said  that  with  your  help,  and  the  help  of 
your  library,  I  can  make  a  lawyer.  This  is  about  the 
interpretation  which  I  give  to  what  you  said.  Am  I 
right?" 

"You  are  right,  as  far  as  you  go  ;  but,  stopping 
short  of  understanding  the  entirety  of  my  wishes,  your 
conclusion  must  necessarily  be  incorrect.  That  my 
proposal  included  my  help,  and  the  aid  which  could 
be  gathered  from  the  books  in  my  library,  was  true, 
but  I  wanted  to  be  understood  as  asking  no  compensa 
tion  for  what  instruction  I  might  give  you,  nor  any 
pay  for  the  use  of  my  books." 

"I  am  frank  enough  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Hampton, 
that  the  result  of  yourpropositfon,  for  such  I  must  now 
call  it,  might  be  made  possible,  if  there  were  not  other 
insuperable  hindrances." 

"In  its  widest  sense,  I  am  not  a  pauper,  for  I  think 
I  am  rich,  in  the  possession  of  a  sound  body,  a  sound 
mind,  and  uncorrupted  morals.  But,  while  this  is 


WHAT  NEXT?  53 

true,  I  fully  understand  that  neither  one.  not  yet  all  of 
these  qualities  could  purchase  bread  or  lodging,  while 
I  might  be  engaged  in  studying  law.  My  way  to  the 
bar,  I  therefore  conclude,  has  too  many  obstructions, 
to  even  give  promise  of  a  possibility  of  my  ever 
addressing  a  jury.  But  granting  this  to  be  true,  I  have 
a  living  faith,  that  the  riches  which  I  have  boastingly 
claimed  to  be  in  my  possession,  may  yet  serve  as  a 
recommendation  to  some  honorable  position,  which  I 
can  honorably  fill." 

"I  think,  Mr.  Parsons,"  said  the  lawyer,  "You  are  a 
little  premature  in  your  conclusions.  Your  interpretation 
of  my  proposal  was  incorrect,  and  the  proposal  therefore 
needs  some  further  explanation.  Let  me  make 
myself  more  fully  understood." 

"In  the  submitted  proposition,  wherein  I  use  the 
word  'help,'  I  intended  to  have  that  word  used  in  a 
less  restricted  sense  than  you  supposed  I  designed  to 
have  applied  thereto,  and  this  leads  to  a  misunder 
standing  of  the  real  gist  of  my  proposition." 

It  was  my  intention  to  be  understood,  as  offering  to 
furnish  you  the  untrammeled  use  of  my  library,  my 
counsel  and  instruction  together  with  all  material  aid 
necessary  to  equip  you  for  an  attorney-at-law.  Board 
ing  as  wrell  as  lodging  would  be  furnished,  and  a 
sufficiency  of  money  to  replenish  and  keep  in  good 
condition  your  wardrobe.  This  is  what  I  meant  by  aid. 
There  was  to  be  no  stingy  stinting  in  such  things  as 
would  be  needed  to  make  you  comfortable.  Now,  I 
propose  to  make  some  further  explanation  of  what  I 
intended  to  be  a  supplemental  part  of  my  offer.  It  is 
this.  For  the  aid  thus  furnished,  it  should  be 
understood  that  neither  note  nor  any  kind  of  written 


•54  WHAT  NEXT? 

money  obligation  should  be  passed  between  us.  Your 
verbal  obligation  to  return  the  money  which  might  be 
spent  in  \Tour  behalf  without  interest,  when  you  should 
have  attained  a  sufficiency  lucrative  practice  to 
enable  you  to  do  so,  was  all  I  should  have  asked." 

It  is  not  very  often  that  a  generous  exhibition  of 
kindness  is  so  unexpected  because  of  its  magnitude,  as 
to  fall  upon  the  ears,  with  a  stunning  effect,  but  such 
was  the  case  in  this  instance.  The  proposition  as 
explained,  was  so  overwhelming,  that,  for  a  moment, 
John  Parsons,  who  had  arisen  to  his  feet,  stood  dazed 
and  motionless  and  statue-like,  in  the  presence  of  a 
would-be  benefactor.  He  would  fain  have  grasped  the 
hand  of  Mr.  Hampton,  in  a  passionate  display  of 
overpowering  gratitude,  had  the  lawyer  not  have  been  a 
man  who  was  a  partial  stranger,  as  well  as  a  man  of 
much  reserve. 

Parsons  knew  what  kindness  was.  The  President, 
under  whom  he  had  so  recently  graduated,  had 
presented  him  with  a  sublime  lesson  of  generosity, 
under  the  expanding  influence  of  which,  his  heart  had 
opened  wider,  and  was  made  a  bigger  receptacle  for 
love  and  gratitude. 

Parsons  not  only  knew  how  to  estimate  anticipated 
kindnesses,  but  was  ever  read}'  to  show  his  appreciation 
of  them,  when  they  came.  He  was  ever  grateful  for 
the  bestowal  of  the  smallest  favor.  Ordinarily,  his 
innate  politenesss  and  good  manners  rendered  him 
happy  in  courteously  and  handsomely  recognizing  even 
a  compliment.  His  timidity  was  not  allowed  to  get 
the  mastery  of  his  politenesss,  nor  to  paralyze  the  power 
of  his  fluent  tongue.  Having  been  brought  up  largely 
in  the  school  of  adversity ;  necessity  beacme  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  55 

mother  of  his  ready  wit  and  equipoise  of  judgement 
under  trial.  But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  he  was 
unequal  to  the  emergency,  for  some  time,  which  called 
for  a  reply  to  the  more  than  generous  Joffer  of  the  big- 
hearted  Mr.  Hampton.  However,  after  drawing  one 
long  breath,  and  when  it  became  perceptible  that  his 
heart  had  put  on  a  quickened  thump,  and  that  its 
strokes  were  climbing  throatward,  he  ventured  to  break 
the  silence. 

In  his  astonishment,  John  still  stood  erect,  and 
composing  himself  as  best  he  could,  said  in  a  rather 
tremulous  voice,  "  Really,  Mr.  Hampton,  my  surprise 
scarcely  knows  any  bounds.  I  seem  to  be  in  the  very 
midst  of  a  great  unsolved  enigma.  My  very  surround 
ings  appear  to  be  half  audibly  whispering,  What  does 
it  all  mean?" 

''  That  you  are  wholly  sincere  in  all  you  have 
said,  I  do  not,  for  a  moment  question.  I  can  see  no 
possible  reason  why  you  should  be  otherwise.  With 
this  belief,  I  must  say,  your  proposition  brings  me 
under  an  obligation  that  must  be  commensurate  with 
life.  The  acceptance  of  even  the  tithe  of  what  you 
have  offered  would  impose  upon  me,  most  assuredly,  a 
load  of  gratitude  too  big  to  carry  from  here  to  my  grave. 
This  is  my  reason  for  the  non-acceptance  of  your  gift. 
I  am  amazed  at  the  magnitude  of  your  generosity,  but 
cannot  accept  your  offer.  But.  while  I  decline  your 
proffered  help  to  a  young  man  in  his  fight  for  a  start  in 
life,  I  must  say,  all  honor  to  the  man  who  generously 
proposes,  with  his  own  hand,  to  push  away  the  over 
hanging  clouds  of  poverty,  that  darken  the  way  of  the 
ambitious  but  penniless  youth." 


56  WHAT  NEXT? 

The  subsequent  portion  of  the  conversation  between 
John  Parsons  and  William  Hampton,  as  connected 
with  what  is  chronicled  herein,  is  unimportant.  Suf 
fice  it  to  say,  the  proposition  of  the  latter  created  a 
bond  of  friendship  between  the  two  gentlemen  that 
remained  unbroken,  and  untarnished,  till  Hampton 
was  called  to  where  human  help  for  the  poor  is  not 
needed.  He  passed  "over  the  river"  and  has  been 
resting  in  the  shade  on  the  other  side  for  a  half  cen 
tury  ;  but  still  John  holds  his  memory  in  grateful  recol 
lection,  as  a  man  who  appreciated  honor,  honest}7  and 
an  ambition  to  be  something  and  do  something  in  life. 

Propositions  very  similar  to  the  one  recounted  above 
were  submitted  to  young  Parsons  for  consideration,  by 
other  parties;  but,  for  the  same  reasons  that  led  him 
to  decline  the  offer  of  Mr.  Hampton,  they  too  were 
waived. 

To  such  persons  as  are  unacquainted  with  that  char 
acter  of  ambition  which  would  seek  to  be  independent 
in  all  that  it  does ;  the  defense  of  the  course  of  John 
Parsons,  in  refusing  proffered  aid.  when  it  was  so  seri 
ously  needed,  becomes  a  matter  of  conjecture.  To 
know  that  he  was,  even  in  distress,  in  the  very  midst 
of  generous  proposals,  examples  of  noble  charity, 
because  of  his  pecuniary  condition,  necessarily  brought 
him  under  a  somewhat  censorious  criticism.  But 
despite  all  this,  like  a  man  who  seemed  to  have  a  some 
what  bright  prospect  for  drowning,  John  hung  to  the 
willows,  with  the  hope  that  there  would  be  a  rising 
tide,  upon  which  he  might  be  bourne  to  higher  ground, 
and  find  brighter  sunshine  and  fewer  clouds.  He  was 
not  like  the  Wilkins  Micawber  of  Dickens,  waiting  for 


WHAT  NEXT?  57 

•something  to  turn  up,  but  rather  watching  for  some 
thing  which  he  might  try  his  hand  in  turning  up. 

John  was  growing  restive,  but  still  clung  to  the 
belief  that  somebody  would  ultimately  put  in  an 
appearance,  who  would  offer  him  something  to  do, 
whereby  he  could  help  himself.  He  chafed  under  the 
idea  of  being  dependent  upon  the  charity  and  help  of 
others.  Indeed,  he  would,  seemingly,  rather  have 
stooped  to  the  work  of  menial  servitude  than  to  have 
accepted  aid  at  the  hands  of  any  one  to  whom  he 
•could  not  have  returned  a  compensation. 

The  outlook  appeared  dark ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  its 
gloom,  it  was  well  that  there  was  one  sincere,  hopeful 
and  loving  friend,  who,  at  least,  never  deserted  him.  In 
the  midst  of  her  boy's  near  approach  to  despondency, 
a  mother's  heart  always  held  in  store  some  comforting 
and  helpful  encouragement,  while,  but  for  that  encour 
agement  the  boy's  spirit  would  have  suffered  under  the 
strain.  It  may  indeed  have  been  well  that  this  status 
•of  affairs  was  soon  closed. 

In  the  latter  part  of  August,  184 — ,  just  six  months 
before  John  had  reached  his  nineteenth  year,  the  Par- 
.sons  family  were  seated  at  the  dinner  table,  when  a 
knock  upon  the  hall  door  indicated  the  fact  that  some 
one  desired  admission.  I  say  "knock,"  for  the  reason 
that  knockers,  which  were  attached  to  doors,  at  that 
period  of  the  country's  history,  were  a  rarity,  and  the 
use  of  bells  was  the  introduction  of  a  much  later  day. 
Knuckles,  knife-handles  and  walking-canes  were 
utilized  in  thumping  upon  the  doors  of  residences 
whenever  visitors  desired  to  call  the  attention  of  the 
family  to  the  fact  that  some  one  sought  admission. 
In  addition  to  these  facts,  even  if  a  family  employed  a 


53  WHAT  NEXT? 

waiting  servant,  the  female  members  of  that  family 
h^d  not  as  yet  discovered  that  there  was  any  impro 
priety  for  any  one  of  them  to  answer  the  summons  of  a 
front-door  knock. 

Upon  this  occasion  Miss  Elizabeth  Parsons,  John's 
eldest  sister,  who  was  always  deeply  interested  in  any 
and  everything  that  concerned  her  brother,  arose  from 
the  table  and  answered  the  rapping  upon  the  door. 
When  the  door  was  opened,  Elizabeth  found  herself 
confronted  by  a  gentleman  with  whom  she  was 
acquainted,  a  Mr.  White,  a  sturdy  old  farmer,  who 
lived  but  a  few  miles  from  town.  She  invited  him  in, 
asked  him  to  be  seated,  and,  according  to  a  general 
custom  under  such  circumstances,  informed  him  that 
the  family  was  at  dinner,  and  invited  him  to  become  a 
partaker  of  the  repast  with  them.  Mr.  White  politely 
declined  her  invitation,  saying  he  had  called,  on  his 
way  home,  to  see  her  brother  John  on  a  little  business, 
and  that  he  would  be  expected  home  to  dinner. 

"If  it  is  John  you  desire  to  see,"  said  the  young 
lady,  "I  will  notify  him  at  once,  for  I  am  sure,  aside 
from  business,  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  He  is 
about  through  with  his  meal,  and  I  will  send  him  to 
you  at  once."  So  saying,  Miss  Elizabeth  returned  to  the 
dining  room,  and  announced  that  it  was  Mr.  Hiden 
White  who  had  called,  and  that  his  business  was  with 
her  brother  John,  which  remark  she  supplemented  by 
telling  John  to  be  in  a  hurry,  as  Mr.  White  was  on  his 
way  home  to  dinner. 

John  quicklj7  went  to  the  room  in  which  Mr.  White 

was  seated,  and,  after  the  usual  kind  of  greeting  which 

friends    manifest    upon    meeting,    Mr.    White    began, 

without   a   tedious    preface,    the    presentation    of    the 

business  upon  which  he  had  called. 


WHAT  XEXT?  59 

"Mr.  Parsons,"  said  White,  ''we  have  made  no 
definite  arrangement  in  regard  to  the  employment  of  a 
teacher  for  the  school  in  our  neighborhood,  which  must 
be  opened  in  September,  and  I  am  deputized  to 
employ  one.  In  casting  about  me,  in  an  effort  to  find 
one  who  might  acceptably  fill  the  position,  you  have 
been  highly  recommended  as  qualified,  in  every  way, 
to  make  us  a  good  pedagogue,  and  I  have  decided  to 
offer  the  place  to  you,  provided  terms  can  be  agreed 
upon,  as  between  us.  The  number  of  pupils  who 
attend  the  school  is  unusually  small,  and  the  amount  of 
profit,  in  teaching  it,  would  necessarily  be  correspond 
ingly  small.  But  the  place  is  open  for  your  acceptance 
and  you  must  exercise  your  own  judgment  in  regard  to 
the  decision  you  make.  I  am  in  somewhat  of  a 
hurry,"  said  White.  "What  do  you  think  of  the 
matter?  I  do  not  desire  to  press  the  question  upon 
your  consideration,  by  asking  for  an  immediate  answer, 
but  think  the  sooner  the  question  is  settled  the  better 
I  shall  be  pleased." 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,  under  the  circum 
stances,"  said  Parsons.  "I  would  certainly  be  glad  to 
have  the  position.  I  need  it.  Although  the  amount 
of  compensation,  which  I  might  receive  for  the  work 
that  I  do,  may  be  small,  it  would  nevertheless  relieve 
me  of  the  feeling  of  dependence,  which  is  the  worst 
load  I  am  now  carrying.  I  really  think,  Mr.  White, 
that  I  would,  and  could,  readily  accept  the  position 
you  offer  me,  but  for  two  difficulties  that  seem  to 
stand  in  the  way.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  apprehen 
sive  that  my  youthfulness  would  be  a  bar  to  my 
commanding  the  respect  which  should  be  maintained 
in  all  school  rooms.  In  the  second  place,  I  imagine 


60  WHAT  NEXT? 

that  my  3routhfulness  would  be  necessarily  coupled 
with  a  degree  of  timidity  that  ought  not  to  be  carried 
into  the  presence  of  a  class  of  pupils.  I  may  possibly 
have  some  of  the  essential  qualifications  of  a  teacher. 
As  to  how  many  I  have,  I  presume  could  only  be 
ascertained  by  putting  me  to  the  test." 

"Upon  all  these  points,"  said  Mr.  White,  ''we  are 
satisfied.  As  to  the  success  or  failure  of  your  efforts 
we,  as  patrons,  are  willing  to  share  with  you  all  risks. 
We  will  help  you  with  our  counsel,  if  it  be  sought,  and 
give  3'ou  all  the  moral  support  in  your  undertaking 
that  we  can." 

"Well,"  said  John,  "what  you  propose  would  throw 
about  the  undertaking  such  pillars  of  support  as  would 
be  comforting  to  the  educational  novice,  who  might  be 
apprehensive  of  the  downfall  of  all  his  plans.  Your 
confidence  inspires  me,  and  without  any  further  parley 
in  the  way  of  offering  objections  or  suggesting  the 
up-coming  of  suppositional  difficulties,  I  will  accept 
the  place  and  put  forth  my  very  best  offort  to  do  good 
and  faithful  work.  This  is  the  best  promise  I  can 
make;  more  than  this  you  would  hardly  ask." 

''  Your  acceptance  having  been  signified,  under  the 
pledged  assurances  which  I  have  made.  I  need  only 
say  to  you,  as  information  which  will  prevent  any 
misunderstanding  upon  that  point,  that  your  wages 
will  be  in  the  hands  of  3'our  patrons,  and  that  your 
collection  of  a  salarj'  of  so  much  per  month  on  the  pupil 
wrill  be  your  compensation  for  teaching.  The  time  of 
making-  your  collections  will  be  optional  with  you,  but 
the  amount  for  teaching  all  grades  of  pupils  is  specified. 
It  will  be  three  dollars  per  month.  I  am  thus  particu 
lar  to  make  this  statement,  because  those  by  whom  I 


WHAT  NEXT?  61 

am  deputised  to  make  this  bargain  would  not  like  to 
have  any  radical  changes  made  in  an  established 
custom.1' 

There  were  some  very  singular  usages  that  were 
practiced  in  the  far  away  time  about  which  I  am 
writing.  Removed  only  a  short  time  beyond  the 
period  when  John  Parsons  made  his  first  contract  to 
enter  the  field  as  an  educator,  it  was  the  custom  to 
have  the  Yankee  teachers  "board  round,"  as  it  was 
called.  That  is,  if  a  male  teacher,  it  was  expected  that 
he  would,  as  a  boarder,  divide  his  time  about  equally 
among  his  patrons,  spending  in  his  rounds  a  week 
alternately  with  each  family.  The  lady  teachers  were 
not  subject  to  such  rotary  arrangements. 

Our  proposed  teacher,  being  a  little  independent  in 
his  mode  of  thought,  as  has  already  been  discovered, 
resolved  upon  an  innovation  on  this  custom. 

John  thought  that  if  the  saying,  that  "a  change  of 
pasture  makes  fat  sheep"  was  applicable  to  the  teacher 
''boarding  round,"  there  ought  to  have  been  a  show  of 
more  corpulency  discoverable  in  the  pedagogues  who 
preceded  him,  as  the  advance  guard  in  the  train  of 
civilization.  John,  however,  did  not  covet  a  rapidity 
of  physical  growth,  and  hence,  preferring  to  havs  a 
regular  boarding-place,  he  arranged  with  Mr.  White 
for  a  room  and  boarding  in  his  family. 

Arrangements  were  made  on  the  day  following  Mr. 
White's  first  visit  to  Parsons,  whereby  the  latter,  in 
company  with  Mr.  White,  as  chaperon  and  counselor, 
should  make  a  visit  to  each  of  the  families  in  reaching 
distance  of  the  school  which  Parsons  was  to  teach — get 
acquainted  with  them,  solicit  their  patronage  and 
ascertain  how  many  pupils  each  would  "sign"  Yes.  I 


62  WHAT  NEXT? 

am  not  mistaken  ;  "sign"  is  the  word.     Truly. 

"Tempora  mutantur,  ft  DOS  inntnmur  in  ill  is." 
John  felt  better.  Yes,  very  much  better.  There  had 
come  a  diverson.  There  had  been  a  break  in  the 
monotony  of  life.  There  had  appeared  a  streak  of 
sunlight  peeping  through  the  clouds,  and  the  teacher 
in  prospect  asked  himself.  What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  IIII. 

"To  the  expanded  and  aspiring  soul 

To  be  but  .still  the  thins  it  long  has  been, 

Is  misery  " 

— Baillie. 

"Shortly  his  fortune  shall  be  lilted  higher; 
True  industry  doth  kindle  honour's  lire  " 

— Shakespeare. 

I  ^  ITH  the  young,  a  state  of  suspense  almost  invaria- 

II        bly  produces  an  overweening  amount  of  anxiety; 

^J_J^  and  anxiety,  long  continued,  has  a  wearing  effect 

upon  hoth  the  physical  and  mental  nature.      A 

somthing  that  is  dimly  outlined  in  the  obscure  future, 

and  which    one    is   anxious  to  obtain,    but  which  he 

knows  there  is  a  possibility  of  his  losing,  can  but  result 

in  deep-seated  restiveness,  a  champing  of  the  bit,  as  it 

were — a    desire,  amounting    almost    to    resolution,  to 

go  forward — to  risk  whatever  is  to  come. 

John  Parsons  had  long  wanted  employment,  he 
panted  for  the  privilege  of  being  put  in  a  position 
where  he  could  show  his  pluck  on  the  up-grade  of  life. 
He  knew,  full  well,  that  in  making  the  down-grade, 
there  were  too  few  who  knew  anything  about  handling 
the  brakes,  and  hence,  with  these  off,  they  rush  to  a 
speedy  destruction.  He  had  waited,  impatiently 
perchance,  for  something  to  do,  through  days  and 
weeks.  His  meeting  with  Mr.  White  had  kindled  anew 
the  ambition  of  his  young  manhood.  With  the 
termination  of  that  interview,  there  seemed  to  be  a 
prospect  of  his  entering  upon  a  new  exterprise,  and  as 
that  prospect  brightened,  he  seemed  to  take  on  new 
life,  for,  he  felt  that  the  assuming  of  a  place  of 
responsibility,  would  be,  for  him,  the  opening  up  of 
the  second  momentous  period  of  his  life. 


64  WHAT  NEXT? 

John  was  not  only  hopeful  that  he  would  secure 
enough  pupils  to  settle  the  question  of  his  being 
installed  as  the  teacher  of  the  anticipated  position ; 
he  was  more  than  hopeful.  He  was  sanquine.  In 
consequence  of  his  faith  in  the  brightened  outlook,  he 
entered  upon  the  task  of  more  fully  understanding  the 
art  of  teaching.  That  he  was  prepared,  so  far  as  his 
own  education  in  books  was  concerned,  he  felt  fully 
assured ;  but,  although  this  was  true,  he  recognized 
the  fact,  that  even  in  the  rudiments  of  teaching,  he 
was  scarcely  a  novitiate.  He  therefore  discussed  with 
himself,  and  with  others,  the  subject  of  discipline,  as 
connected  Avith  the  school-room,  and  the  decision  was 
reached  that  a  complete  up-turning  of  the  old  arbitrary 
way  of  trying  to  force  students  along  the  educational 
high-way,  was  absolutely  an  indispensible  necessity  to 
success.  Other  questions  immediately  connected  with 
the  foregoing,  and  some  of  them  growing  out  of  the 
discipline  discussion,  were  examined  by  him,  and 
conclusions  reached,  that  the  whole  system  of  teaching 
was  rudis  indigent  a  moles. 

In  order  to  succed,  Parsons  became  satisfied  that 
innovations  upon  the  old  style  of  conducting  schools 
would  have  to  be  so  numerous  that  there  would  be 
a  possibility  of  his  bringing  himself  under  the  censure 
of  those  who  were  disposed  to  rebel  against  the 
introduction  of  things  novel.  This,  he  thought,  might 
operate  to  his  detriment,  especially  with  the  more 
ignorant  in  the  community.  But,  while  he  believed 
there  might  lurk  some  danger  in  the  experiment,  the 
honesty  of  his  conscience  would  not  allow  him  to  shrink 
from  a  determination  to  adopt  such  plans  as  would 
redound  to  the  best  interest  of  those  whom  he 
expected  to  serve. 


WHAT  NEXT?  65 

With  this  conclusion  to  which  Parsons  arrived, 
held  as  a  stereotyped  conviction  in  his  mind,  he 
dismissed  the  discussion  thereof  and  awaited  further 
orders. 

While  John  and  Mr.  White  were  out,  upon  the  day 
specified,  with  a  view  of  making  the  proposed  visits 
among  those  in  the  neighborhood  who  had  children 
who  ought  to  be  sent  to  school,  it  seemed  to  him  like 
a  hunt  among  the  quarries  for  specimens  to  be 
chiseled  into  something  more  attractive ;  that  what  he 
and  his  chaperon  might  gather  up  would  constitute  the 
first  material  upon  which  to  begin  the  work,  and  that 
with  this  beginning,  would  be  laid  the  corner  stone 
of  a  temple  of  usefulness  which  he  aspired  to  build. 

Hopefulness  is,  ordinarily,  a  large  ingredient  in  the 
mental  organism  of  the  young,  and  it  was  well  that 
John  Parsons  was  not  an  exception  to  the  rule.  How 
readily  he  arose  from  a  condition  of  semi-despondency 
to  one  of  buoyancy !  No  sooner  had  there  been 
presented  to  him  the  chance  of  a  prospective  business, 
than  he  began  to  weave  visions  of  brightness  for  his 
future.  This,  as  a  feature  in  the  general  character  of  the 
young,  is  well.  It  incites  to  progress,  and  if  permitted  to 
be  an  actuating  principle  among  them,  it  would  not  be 
slow  in  preaching  the  funeral  of  that  hackneyed  phrase, 
"0,let  well  enough  alone!"  This  has  been  the  cry  upon 
which  have  been  rung  the  changes,  by  the  old,  in  the 
ages  agone,  and  ever  proved,  when  carried  out,  a  check 
to  the  wheel  of  progress. 

In  the  effort  which  Parsons  and  his  friend  made, 
during  the  day  which  had  been  designated  as  the  one 

WHAT  NEXT? — 5. 


66  WHAT  NEXT? 

in  which  they  were  to  seek  for  "signers"  to  the 
proposed  school,  they  received  a  number  of  back 
sets,  and  one  or  two  rather  sullen  rebuffs. 

One  good  old  farmer,  to  whom  an  application  was 
made  for  pupils,  and  who  had  a  number  of  children  of 
the  right  age,  actually  took  Mr.  White  to  one  side  and 
whispered  a  stubborn  remonstrance  into  his  ear  against 
the  importation  of  a  boy  teacher  into  the  neighborhood. 
Casting  a  dubious  glance  at  the  young  man  who  was 
posing  in  their  presence  as  a  prospective  teacher,  for, 
really  Mr.  White  did  the  larger  share  of  the  talking, 
these  fathers  would,  with  apparent  reluctance  finally 
agree  to  "sign"  a  scholar,  or  a  scholar  and  a  half,  the 
number  signed  being  considered  the  measure  of  their 
faith  in  the  specimen  of  youthful  humanity  who  stood 
before  them,  having  been  introduced  and  recommended 
by  their  neighbor  and  friend,  Mr.  Hiden  White.  It 
was  very  evident  from  their  manner  of  "signing"  that 
there  was  considerable  incredulity  in  the  minds  of  a 
majority  of  those  to  whom  application  was  made  for 
pupils.  They  were  illiberal  in  their  proposed  patron 
age.  This  exhibited  want  of  confidence,  even  with  the 
assurances  which  Mr.  White  gave  them  that  the  young 
man  came  with  better  recommedations,  from  those 
who  knew  him  best,  than  any  former  teacher  had 
ever  brought  into  the  neighborhood.  This  had  quite  a 
dampening  effect  upon  the  spirits  of  Parsons,  and 
looked  to  him  a  little  like  those  parties  were  disposed 
to  get  out  a  novel  style  of  injunction  to  prevent  the 
opening  of  the  school  at  the  time  which  had  been 
designated  by  Mr.  White. 

To  some  of  the  parties  having  children  to  send  to 
school,  but  who  were  more  backward,  or  irresolute 


WHAT  NEXT?  67 

than  others,  Mr.  White  proposed  that  the  young  man 
should  at  least  be  given  a  trial,  and  himself  agreed  to 
be  responsible,  and  wear  the  blame  of  everything  in  the 
way  of  failure  that  might  result  from  the  experiment. 

In  the  midst  of  his  rounds  and  these  encountered 
difficulties,  Parsons  was  reticent  and  had  nothing  to 
say  in  self-commendation.  When  questioned  as  to  his 
qualifications  for  a  teacher,  he  would  modestly  answer 
that  he  thought  himself  educationally  fitted  for  a 
teacher,  and  would  only  ask  that  an  opportunity  might 
be  given  for  testing  his  qualifications.  He  remarked 
to  more  than  one  of  these  questions,  that  Mr.  White 
had  furnished  them  with  testimonials  as  to  his  ability 
and  fitness  for  such  a  position.  "You  must  let  these 
testimonials  go,"  he  said,  "for  what  they  are  worth. 
Possibly  they  are  overdrawn,  because  of  their  being 
drawn  by  my  personal  friends.  If  you  feel  inclined  to 
ask  furrier  proof  of  my  ability,  as  a  personal  recom- 
menda\ion,  with  no  disguisement  whatever,  I  frankly 
say  to  you,  I  have  none  to  offer  except  a  clean  record 
and  a  willingness  to  try.  If  there  is  anything  else, 
along  this  line,  which  you  wish  to  know,  I  shall  have 
to  ask  Mr.  White  to  be  my  sponsor.  I  hereby  escape 
the  semblance  of  egotism." 

To  secure  even  the  minimum  number  of  pupils, 
with  which  it  was  proposed  the  school  should  be 
opened,  proved  to  be  not  only  a  difficult  but  a  dispirit 
ing  task.  But  John  put  on  a  bold  front,  worked  his 
resolution  up  to  a  fever  heat,  and  determined  not  to 
go  down  before  the  onslaught  which  incredulity  was 
making  upon  his  breast- work  of  resolves.  Amid  all 
the  discouragements  which  had,  at  every  turn, 
confronted  Parsons,  it  WPS,  at  last,  ascertained  that 


68  WHAT  NEXT? 

the  number  of  pupils  necessary  to  the  opening 
of  the  school  had  been  secured,  and  that  the 
untried  but  confident  youth  would  be  installed  as  the 
chosen  teacher  of  the  White  school  on  the  following 
Monday  morning. 

In  reflecting  upon  the  ordeal  through  which  he  had 
passed,  in  his  rambling  tour  through  the  school  district, 
John  felt  that  in  that  fight  his  object  had  largely  been 
to  secure  material  upon  which  to  work,  by  overcoming 
prejudice.  With  the  opening  of  a  new  working  week, 
he  would  enter  upon  an  untried  field.  The  fight  to  be 
then  inaugurated  would  be  an  open  warfare  against 
ignorance — would  be  the  effort  of  a  new  and  untried 
leader,  to  pilot  immortal  spirits  up  a  few  of  the 
ascending  steps,  over  which  the  neophyte  must  travel, 
before  daring  sublimer  heights,  or  catching  glimpses  of 
the  supernal  beauties  which  grow  in  unwithering  verdure 
and  unsullied  brightness,  in  a  land  of  perfect  i^eace. 

When  Monday  morning  came,  John  was  up  with  the 
lark,  and,  not  owning  a  horse,  and  too  poor  to  buy 
one,  he  was  soon  on  his  way  afoot  and  traveling  with 
the  nimbleness  and  fleetness  of  an  Indian.  The  sun 
was  scarcely  up.  The  odor  of  the  autumn  flowers  still 
lingered  in  the  lap  of  the  morning.  Dew-drops 
suspended  in  trembling  vibrations  from  every  leaf, 
twig,  and  spear  of  grass,  sparkled  with  more  than 
diamond  lustre,  in  reflecting  the  brightness  of  the 
uprising  sun.  Nature's  own  choristers,  in  wood  and 
glen,  were  vieing  with  each  other,  as  to  whose  matin 
orison  should  be  lifted  highest  heavenward. 

The  morning  was  beautiful.  Its  brightness  and  the 
exhilirating  effect  of  the  autumn  air,  was  accepted  by 
young  Parsons,  as  a  presage  of  the  opening  up 


WHAT  NEXT?  69 

of  something  really  good  for  him  in  his  new  venture. 
Heaven  smiled,  and  in  those  smiles  he  felt  that  nature 
was  prophesying  for  him  hetter  days.  With  a  far 
lighter  heart  than  he  had  worn  for  many  a  day,  he 
caught  an  inspiration  from  the  glory  of  morning,  and 
sped  along  the  way  as  though  he  had  heen  hitched  to 
sails  that  were  heing  pushed  forward  by  the  morning 
breeze. 

Making  a  landing  in  front  of  the  somewhat 
dilapidated  school-house.  John  sprang  into  the  room 
just  in  time  to  have  called  the  roll,  had  there  been  one 
to  call. 

The  newly  installed  pedagogue  did  not  expect  much 
in  the  way  of  pupils  to  start  with.  The  number  on  the 
subscription  list  did  not  warrant  him  in  expecting 
much,  as  a  beginning,  but.  even  the  number  which 
came  fell  below  his  expectations,  and  he  was, 
consequently,  disappointed. 

Seven  little  barefooted  girls,  nicely  and  tidily  clad, 
were  all  who  put  in  an  appearance  as  pupils.  The 
complexions  of  these  children  were  as  fresh  as  petals  of 
dew-ladened  roses  ;  their  countenances  were  as  bright 
as  freshly  coined  money,  just  from  the  mint.  There 
were  but  seven  of  them — all  from  one  particular  locality 
in  the  district  who  met  the  young  teacher  on  the 
morning  of  his  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  keeping 
school. 

At  the  outlook  Parsons  was  disappointed,  but  did 
not  complain  ;  he  was  just  a  wee  bit  dispirited,  but 
did  not  fret ;  he  was  half  sorrowful,  but  did  not  become 
petulant.  He  did  not  mope  in  sullenness  because  there 
were  so  few,  even  of  the  number  who  had  been 
"signed,"  that  were  in  at  the  opening  of  the  school. 


70  WHAT  NEXT? 

Parsons  knew  that  courage  or  pluck  was  one  of  the 
ingredients  of  success,  and  therefore  did  not  become 
dejected  because  things  had  not  gone,  during  his  first 
day's  real  work,  just  as  he  had  expected  it  would  ;  he 
did  not  censure  an}7  mythological  diety,  nor  dame 
nature,  that,  in  turning  the  wheel  of  fortune,  none  of 
their  golden  misted  gifts  were  poured  into  his  lap. 

The  young  teacher's  surroundings  were  truly  trying. 
but  his  bravery  was  equal  to  his  trial  ;  for,  while 
seeming  to  have  forgotten,  for  a  short  time,  both 
himself  and  his  environments,  the  musical  voice  of 
one  of  the  little  girls,  in  the  asking  of  an  unimportant 
question,  awakened  him  from  his  reverie  and  drew  his 
attention  to  the  wrants  of  his  very  small  class  of  very 
young  children. 

Having  an  easy  agreeable  manner  coupled  with  a 
very  pleasant  voice,  Parsons  soon  found  himself 
gaining  favor  by  a  course  of  catechism  in  the  minds  of 
the  sweet-faced  little  girls,  and  before  the  day's  work, 
such  as  it  was,  had  closed,  John  Parsons  had  found 
his  way  to  the  hearts  of  seven  little  Misses,  and  they 
were  his  firm,  fast,  devoted  friends. 

The  smiling  faces  and  speaking  eyes  of  these 
beautiful  children  as  they  gave  their  teacher  a  parting 
salute  for  the  day,  could  not  have  been  easily 
misinterpreted.  There  was  that  in  their  expressions 
which  seemed  to  say  "we  shall  like  our  teacher."  There 
was  in  his  good-by  a  something  that  seemed  to  sound 
like  "I  shall  love  my  little  pupils."  In  fact,  the  first 
link  on  that  first  day  was  forged,  which  John  intended 
should  be  the  nucleus  of  a  long-linked  chain  of  genuine 
friendships — held  at  one  end  by  his  own  hand,  and 
grasped  at  the  other  by  the  united  strength  of  the  hands 
of  every  pupil  who  might  come  under  his  control. 


WHAT  NEXT?  71 

It  would  seem  from  the  recital  of  the  first  day's 
experience  of  the  young  teacher,  that  he  had  started 
early  in  his  career,  to  make  radical  changes  in  the  old 
system  of  managing  pupils;  that  is,  inducing  them  to 
receive  instruction  for  the  love  of  it,  and  the  benefit  to 
be  derived  from  it,  rather  than  to  undertake  to  study  as  a 
kind  of  drudgery,  to  which  they  must,  in  many 
instances,  be  driven  like  the  galley  slave.  This  was 
John's  first  move  in  the  direction  of  introducing 
novelties  in  the  system  of  instruction,  and,  though  the 
beginning  was  small,  it  was  intended  by  him  to  be 
rapidly  followed  up  by  many  changes  equally  important. 

Day  after  day,  for  more  than  a  week,  the  same  lucky 
number  of  little  girls  were  all  that  came  to  drink  from 
the  new  style  fountain  of  learning  that  John  Parsons 
had  set  in  motion  in  the  White  school.  The  little 
learners  hung  upon  the  words  of  their  young  instructor 
as  though  he  were  the  embodiment  of  majesty  and 
magic.  They  all  loved  him,  as  they  said,  because  he 
was  not  like  any  other  teacher  to  whom  they  had  ever 
gone.  These  little  folks  had  not  had  much  experience 
with  other  teachers,  but  the  young  are  sharp  critics, 
and,  while  they  could  not  define  the  clear-cut  lines  of 
difference  between  what  their  present  instructor  was, 
as  compared  with  their  experience  in  one  or  two  other 
schools  to  which  they  had  gone,  it  was  very  evident 
that  they  appreciated  the  change.  With  a  bravery  that 
was  worthy  of  the  hero  he  was,  he  trusted  in  the 
prophecy  of  a  fortune-giving  seven,  and  as  valliantly 
wrorked  for  that  seven  as  he  would  have  done  for  a 
battalion  of  equally  good  pupils. 

The  new  regime,  as  introduced  in  Parsons'  school, 
being  a  wedlock  between  learning  and  love,  the  seven 


72  WHAT  NEXT? 

sweet  disciples  who  were  seeking  wisdom  at  the  feet  of 
their  new  master,  were  not  slow  in  publishing  through 
out  the  entire  neighborhood  and  beyond  it  their 
admiration  for  the  boy  teacher. 

The  advertisement  which  these  little  Misses  gave  to 
Mr.  Parsons  and  his  school,  had  its  effect.  Within  a 
few  weeks  pupils  from  every  part  of  the  district  came 
to  put  themselves  under  the  instruction  of  John 
Parsons.  A  few  weeks  later,  and  pupils  from  outside 
the  district  were  making  application  for  places  in  his 
school.  A  few  weeks  later  still,  and  pupils  from  other 
parts  of  the  count}'  were  seeking  admission  into  the 
White  district,  and  applying  for  board,  that  they  too 
might  sit  at  the  feet  of  a  man  whom  some  of  his  most 
enthusiastic  admirers  considered  a  modern  Gamaliel. 

As  the  annual  session  drew  to  a  close,  it  was  very 
apparent  that  the  old  school  building  was  inadequate 
to  meet  the  future  wants  of  the  growing  school.  With 
that,  as  the  existing  status  of  affairs,  John  hardly 
knew  what  to  say,  even  as  suggestions.  He  felt  very 
loath  to  push  upon  their  consideration  the  question  of 
building,  and  when  the  subject  was  named  to  him,  he 
simply  responded,  "Gentlemen,  the  conditions  and 
necessities  of  the  case  are  before  you.  Do.  as  in 
your  wisdom,  you  think  best." 

Some  days  after  this  reply  was  made  by  Parsons,  a 
committee  was  appointed  to  take  under  advisement 
the  matter  of  building,  and  the  result  of  their 
deliberations  was,  that  the  increase  in  the  size  of  the 
school  demanded  the  immediate  construction  of  a  new 
school-house,  and  that  the  convenience  of  the  building 
to  the  wants  of  the  people  whose  children  were  to  be 
sent  to  the  school,  demanded  that  a  more  central 
location  should  be  secured  upon  which  to  build. 


WHAT  NEXT?  73 

As  soon  as  this  committee  had  made  its  report,  John 
was  informed  as  to  what  they  had  decided  upon,  and 
was  invited  to  inspect  the  location,  which  had  been 
selected  as  a  site  for  the  building,  and  was  apprised  of 
their  intention  to  enter  at  once  upon  preparations  to 
erect  thereon  a  building  and  have  it  finished  in  time 
to  be  occupied  by  the  opening  of  the  next  fall  term. 
.  John  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  situation 
selected,  and  upon  which  it  was  proposed  to  build.  It 
was  true  that  it  was  as  near  the  center  of  the  district 
as  any  plat  of  ground  they  could  have  obtained,  but  it 
lay  in  a  bad  shape.  The  ground  was  uneven  and 
seemed  to  lie  in  angles  formed  by  the  head  of  three 
shallow  ravines.  But  John  kept  his  objection  to 
himself,  and  so  the  house  was  soon  in  progress  of 
construction. 

Vacation  time  came  and  the  young  pedagogue  made 
good  use  of  it.  He  became  a  visitor  to  many  parts  of 
his  own  county,  as  well  as  to  other  portions  of  the  State. 
His  popularity  seemed  to  have  been  commensurate 
in  growth  with  his  almost  unprecedented  success  in 
his  first  venture  as  a  tutor.  Go  where  he  might,  there 
were  but  few  places  visited  to  which  his  reputation 
and  good  luck  in  teaching  had  not  preceded  him,  and 
where  complimentary  speeches  were  not  made  about 
him. 

Had  Parsons  not  been  a  man  of  well-balanced  mind 
he  would  have  become  somewhat  inflated  over  the 
flattery  that  was  poured  upon  him.  But,  much  as  has 
been  said  and  written  about  sudden  changes  in  the  life 
and  fortune  of  young  men  spoiling  them  ;  and  many 
as  have  been  the  examples  of  overweening  egotism,  as 
the  outgrowth  of  flattery;  with  him,  his  apparent 


74  WHAT  NEXT? 

growth  in  popularity,  nor  the  number  of  handsome 
speeches  made  to  him  and  about  him,  seemed  to  have 
not  the  slightest  effect  towards  exciting  his  vanity.  He 
had,  doubtless,  an  important  question  under  consider 
ation,  and  that  would  have  sufficed  to  hold  in 
check  the  uprising  of  any  self-conceit  or  vanity  in  the 
young  man.  The  success  that  had  attended  his 
incipient  efforts,  no  doubt,  stimulated  his  ambition 
and  created  a  profounder  resolve  in  the  mind  of  the 
young  man,  to  still  push  forward  to  the  attainment 
of  better  things  in  his  work. 

From  necessity  and  not  from  choice,  he  was 
compelled  to  engage  in  teaching.  There  was  nothing 
else  in  sight  for  him  to  do,  except  at  the  sacrifice  of 
personal  independence  or  to  load  himself  down  under 
the  weight  of  an  enormous  debt  of  gratitude.  He  had 
tried  teaching.  His  experience  in  that  work,  although 
but  scanty  in  amount,  had  given  some  satisfaction  at 
least,  to  his  panting  spirit.  There  was  nothing  better, 
as  far  as  he  could  discern,  within  the  limit  of  his 
perspective,  which  he  could  undertake  and  follow 
out  with  his  limited  means.  He  therefore  full}7  made 
up  his  mind  to  undertake  the  business  of  tutor  to  the 
young,  as  a  lifetime  vocation,  and,  with  this  fixed 
resolve,  he  prepared  himself  to  enter  the  new  building, 
for  a  new  session,  with  an  unfurled  but  modest  banner, 
which  bore  the  mental  resolve  that,  come  what  might, 
he  was  in  the  work  for  life,  and  that  an  important 
constituent  in  that  resolve  was  to  know  no  compromise 
with  anything  that  offered  opposition  to  his  success. 

The  compensation,  even  to  a  well  qualified  teacher, 
in  those  days,  now  so  long  past,  was  very  meager.  As 
a  result  of  this,  the  pedagogue  of  that  olden  time 


WHAT  NEXT?  75 

plodded  his  way  along  life's  pathway,  living  poor  and 
dying  poor.  With  such  wages  as  were  then  paid  to 
the  worthy  worker  in  the  school-room,  he  could  live, 
hut  that  was  ahout'all. 

John  Parsons'  amhition  prompted  to  more  than  this 
tread-mill  style  of  living,  and  pauper  style  of  dj'ing. 
As  a  poor  gentleman,  to  the  manor  born,  his  fiery 
Scotch  blood  bade  him  aspire  to  something  above  the 
common  canaille.  His  associates  were  among  the  very 
best  people  in  the  land.  He  knew  that  mammon 
wielded  a  most  potent  influence  among  a  certain  class 
of  citizens,  but  felt  glad  to  believe  that,  among  the 
masses  the  finer  qualities  of  human  nature  were  at  a 
premium — that  genius  was  admired — that  true  moral 
manliness  was  a  virtue,  and  that  politeness  was  a 
prime  requisite,  as  a  passport  among  the  truly  good. 
These  were  requisites  which  he  knew  were  needed, 
<even  if  the  pockets  of  those  who  wore  them  were  not 
•especially  plethoric  with  gold,  nor  their  anticipations 
•silvery,  because  of  the  anticipated  death  of  an  affluent 
grandfather. 

In  those  early  days  of  Kentucky's  history  the  roads 
were  not  good  and,  in  fact,  became  almost  impassable 
at  certain  seasons  of  the  year.  The  chief  means  of 
locomotion  was  afoot  or  on  horseback.  A  carriage  was 
a  novelty,  a  buggy  a  rarity.  This  fact  gave  rise  to  the 
practice  of  equestrianism  to  such  an  extent,  that  it 
was  rare  to  find  a  young  gentleman  or  lady  who  was 
not  an  expert  in  horseback  riding.  To  have  seen  a 
man  traveling  on  the  highway,  in  a  carriage,  in  the  part 
of  Kentucky  wherein  lived  the  parties  herein  mentioned, 
would  have  created  almost  as  much  wonderment  as  did 
the  advent  of  the  first  menagerie  into  town,  with  its  one 


76  WHAT  NEXT? 

elephant  wearing  a  heavy  covering,  and  only  permitted 
to  make  its  entrance  after  night-fall,  and  be  hurried  off  to 
be  concealed  in  some  stable  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
village. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that,  so  far  in  John's  recent 
history,  he  had  been  using  walkers'  line  of  travel;  not 
by  preference,  but  from  necessity.  Footpads  were  not 
at  as  big  a  discount  then  as  tney  now  are.  Traveling 
beggars,  with  a  very  foreign  accent,  and  very  foreign 
testimonial  that  each  had  been 

"Murdered,  and  shipwrecked,  and  sold,  for  a  slave. 
And  on  the  dry  land,  met  a  watery  grave," 

were  fast  losing  favor  in  the  estimation  of  charitable 
people,  and  tramps  were  introduced  at  a  much  later 
period. 

Parsons  had  done  considerable  walking,  but  not 
enough  to  put  his  name  in  either  of  the  above  catego 
ries,  and  hence  he  wanted  a  horse.  By  and  by  he 
bought  one  and  had  him  richly  caparisoned.  The 
animal  was  a  very  fine  specimen  of  the  equine  family, 
and  his  owner  prized  him  very  highly. 

The  young  man  had  hardly  learned  as  yet  what 
jealousy  meant,  but  he  sometimes  felt  a  little  piqued 
that  the  symmetry  and  beauty  of  his  fine  steed  should 
attract  more  attention  and  elicit  more  notice  than  did 
his  rider. 

The  aesthetic  taste  of  the  young  teacher,  in  almost 
everything,  was  exceptionally  good.  He  was  a  hand 
some  figure,  and  every  article  of  wearing  apparel  in 
which  he  appeared,  both  in  material  and  make,  were 
suited  to  set  off  his  fine  figure  to  good  effect.  His 
clothing  never  gave  him  a  stiff  or  starchy  appearance. 
In  whatever  he  arraved  himself,  it  was  worn  with 


WHAT  NEXT?  77 

unmistakable  ease  and  comfort,  and  without  any  seem 
ing  desire  to  attract  attention  to  his  habiliments.  He 
was  in  no  sense  dudish,  much  less  a  dude. 

As  has  been  previously  proven,  John  Parsons 
descended  from  honest  stock.  From  both  paternal 
and  maternal  grand  parents  he  had  by  inheritance,  by 
precept,  and  by  example  been  taught  to  fully  under 
stand  the  principles  of  honesty.  From  his  own  parents 
he  had  had  seeds  of  honest}'  deeply  and  firmly  re-rooted 
in  his  young  nature.  With  the  convictions  which  he 
brought  from  beneath  the  shelter  of  home;  nothing 
said  or  done  with  the  view  of  practicing  deception  was 
right — nothing  said  or  done — \vith  the  view  of  reck 
lessly  paining  a  human  heart,  could  be  called  anything 
other  than  villainy — that  nothing  said  or  done,  with  a 
view  to  wantonly  arousing  a  false  hope,  in  the  mind  of 
even  the  most  unsuspecting  and  credulous  was  any 
thing  other  than  a  species  of  God-dishonoring  dishon 
esty.  With  these  views  indelibly  impressed  upon  his 
mind,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  scrupulous  exactness 
of  his  Scottish  progenitors  should  have  prompted  him 
to  detest  anything  that  approximated  hypocrisy. 

In  consequence  of  these  opinions  John  detested 
coquetry.  He  claimed  that  the  word  was  defined  to 
be  an  attempt  to  attract  admiration,  with  the  design 
of  deceiving  ;  and,  putting  the  best  definition  upon 
deceit  that  he  could  apply  thereto,  he  could  not  find  a 
definition  to  coquetry  that  would  fit  it  better  than  to 
say  it  simply  meant  lying. 

The  vacation,  upon  which  the  young  preceptor 
entered  after  the  close  of  his  first  session  was 
pleasantly  and  possibly  profitably  spent.  Having  been 
promoted  from  a  foot-traveler  on  the  common  highway 


78  WHAT  NEXT? 

to  an  equestrian,  by  the  purchase  of  a  beautiful  and 
spirited  horse,  he  became  elevated,  but  not  inflated, 
and  consequently  his  popularity  received  no  backset 
by  his  upset.  The  pleasure  which  he  derived  from 
having  a  furlough  from  the  confinement  of  the  school 
room,  came  to  him  in  the  enjoyment  which  he  found 
in  companionship  of  friends,  and  in  the  making  of 
new  friends  and  thereby  widening  the  circle  of  his 
acquaintances.  The  profitable  part  of  his  resting  spell 
was  found  in  the  uninterrupted  attention  he  could  have 
now  and  then,  for  the  further  and  better  qualifj'ing- 
himself  by  earnest  study  for  the  further  prosecution  of 
his  life-work. 

That  the  young  disciple  of  scholasticism  should  have 
attracted  the  attention  of  young  ladies  in  his  own  and 
other  communities  was  not  a  matter  of  surprise. 

The  natural  affinity  between  the  sexes,  would,  of 
course,  have  been  expected  to  allow  an  honest  admira 
tion  to  be  exhibited  upon  the  part  of  the  young 
people  for  each  other,  when  thrown  together.  John  had 
not  had  any  special  instruction  along  the  line  which 
might  have  been  expected  to  engender  a  fondness  for 
female  society.  His  instincts  proved  to  be  quite 
sharp,  however,  and  that  he  soon  exhibited  his 
fondness  for  the  company  of  ladies  seemed  quite 
natural.  But  that  the  praise,  profusely  bestowed  upon 
him  by  handsome  and  sprightby  young  ladies,  in  a  kind 
of  half  hidden  style,  should  have  given  rise  to  nothing 
like  vanity,  was  certainly  unnatural.  That  the  charms 
of  female  loveliness  should  have  challenged  his 
admiration  and  called  forth  expressions  of  complimen 
tary  praise,  was  but  natural.  That  among  the  stylish 
and  bright-eyed  girls  in  whose  company  he  was  so  often 


WHAT  NEXT?  79 

thrown,  he  should  not  have  found  some  sweet  specimen 
of  developing  womanhood,  whose  personal  attractions 
could  set  his  heart  to  unwonted  throbbing,  was 
unnatural.  Indeed,  to  say  that  he  met  no  enchanting 
fairj*  in  human  form,  whose  fascinations  became  mystic 
pictures  to  hang  on  memory's  wall,  troubling  both  his 
walking  and  sleeping  dreams,  was  an  acknowledg 
ment  that  John  Parsons  was  an  exception  to  young 
men  generally. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  general  demeanor  of  the 
young  man,  that  showed  a  want  of  appreciation  of 
acts  of  kindness  towards  himself.  For  the  smallest 
favors  he  was  ever  thankful,  and  was  delighted  when 
ever  an  opportunity  presented  itself  for  his  bestowing 
a  favor  upon  even  a  stranger. 

These  features  of  John's  character  made  friends  for 
him,  and  worked  up  an  increasing  popularity  in  his 
behalf.  His  patrons  placed  a  very  high  estimate  upon 
his  moral  and  intellectual  worth,  and  his  pupils,  in  their 
admiration  for  him  claimed  no  bounds  for  their 
praise. 

Parsons  felt  that  he  had  made  his  first  step  in  the 
direction  of  success — that  he  was  no  longer  in  any 
special  pecuniary  trouble.  Big  indeed,  were  the 
resolves  he  made  to  still  push  his  efforts  towards 
something  better  in  the  way  of  individual  advance 
ment  by  the  prosecution  of  his  future  work.  That  his 
expectations  had  not  been  fully  met  in  what  he  had 
accomplished  in  the  year  now  about  gone,  he  readily 
admitted  to  himself,  but,  accompanying  that  admiss 
ion,  he  was  ready  to  say  it  might  have  been  worse. 

It  was  well  that  John  was  hopeful,  for  his  hopeful 
ness  ever  served  as  a  spur  to  his  actions.  Did  the 


80  WHAT  NEXT? 

work  of  a  day  fall  below  his  adopted  standard,  he  was 
ready  to  say,  it  may  be  made  better  tomorrow.  With 
the  execution  of  promised  plans,  even  when  there  was 
partial  failure,  he  was  not  disposed  to  complain;  but 
with  a  pluck  worthy  of  the  man,  he  would  say: — "it  is 
finished,  even  if  not  well  done,  now  What  Next?" 


CHAPTER  V. 


"Knowest  thou  not  yet,  when  love  invaded  the  soul 
That  all  her  faculties  receive  hiw  chains  ; 
Tliat  reason  gives  her  sceptre  to  his  hand, 
Or  only  struggles  to  be  be  more  enslaved  ?" 

— Dr.  Johnson. 


IflfFHE  vacation  passed.    The  day  for  the  christening 
Jll 


Id/ 

II'®  °f  the  new  sch°°l'h°use  was  at  hand.  In  the 
J|  early  morning  John  Parsons  began  his  prepar 
ations  for  an  introduction  to  his  new  seat  of 
labor,  and,  to  some  extent,  to  a  new  set  of  workers  in 
his  educational  vineyard.  Even  when  the  assembly  hour 
had  about  arrived,  he  had  not  still  put  in  his  appearance, 
and  those  in  the  room  who  had  not  met  him,  grew  a 
very  little  impatient  over  his  delay.  However,  within  a 
few  minutes  of  the  time  for  rapping  for  order,  the 
young  teacher  stepped  into  the  room  and,  with  a  polite 
bow  saluted  the  assembled  students.  The  house  was 
nearly  full,  and  among  those  present,  there  were 
seventeen  young  men  older  than  Parsons,  who  had 
come  chiefly  from  other  neighborhoods  as  well  as 
other  counties,  to  enroll  themselves  among  the  pupils 
of  his  school.  Besides  the  young  men,  some  of  whom 
Parsons  had  never  met,  there  were  other  pupils  of 
both  sexes — among  them  were  girls  nearly  grown.  But 
among  all  those  present  there  were  none  whom  he 
more  gladly  welcomed  than  the  "lucky  seven,"  who, 
bright-faced  and  joyous,  gladly  received  their  teacher 
with  a  sweet  "Good  Morning!"  Among  those  who 
had  assembled  in  that  room  there  were  none  for  whom 
Parsons  felt  so  tender  an  attachment  as  he  did  for 

WHAT  M-XT? — 6. 


82  WHAT  NEXT? 

these  seven.  Somehow,  he  felt  to  look  upon  them  as 
the  nucleus  of  the  body  of  pupils  who  had  gathered 
into  his  fold. 

The  installment  was  without  any  special  prelim 
inaries.  Parsons  was  the  recognized  leader,  but  not  a 
stubborn  autocrat.  He  was  a  man  who,  as  all  present 
readily  saw,  had  divested  himself  of  the  terror  and  un- 
approachableness,  which  characterized  the  pedagogues 
who  preceded  him.  As  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  that 
little  throng,  he  seemed  by  his  gentleness,  his  urbane 
bearing  and  his  apparent  suitableness  for  the  place  to 
be  a  born  leader — a  patient  sympathizing  leader — a 
genuine  friend  to  the  young,  and  an  accomplished 
gentleman  withal. 

Such  an  ingathering  of  young  folks,  in  a  common 
country  school,  was  a  matter  of  gratification  to  its 
teacher.  The  patrons  were  greatly  surprised,  as  well 
as  somewhat  flattered,  that  the  school  should  have 
opened  so  prosperously.  Those  persons  in  the  commu 
nity  who  had  no  direct  personal  interest  in  the 
education  of  its  children,  now  and  then  were  heard  to 
indulge  in  a  sparing  compliment  to  the  young  teacher. 
''A  new  broom  sweeps  clean;'  wait  till  it  has  been 
used  a  bit,  and  if  it  then  stirs  up  no  more  dust  than  it 
does  to-day,  you  may  think  yourselves  fortunate  in 
securing  a  man,  who  is  such,  in  more  respects  than  one.' 

Looking  about  him,  Parsons  readily  saw  that  his 
work  was  multiplying  upon  his  hands.  Nothing  daunt 
ed,  however,  his  energy  and  resolution  were  equal  to  the 
the  emergency;  for  a  fixed  purpose  was  at  once  formed 
that  nothing  should  be  omitted  on  his  part  that  would 
tend  to  make  the  school,  before  which  he  then  stood,  a 
decided  and  complete  success.  That  he  succeeded  in 


WHAT  NEXT?  83 

his  resolve  beyond  the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  his 
supporters,  was  apparent — as  to  whether  his^work  met 
the  demands  of  his  hope,  none  knew  but  himself.  Of 
one  thing,  however,  he  did  dare  to  speak;  and  that 
was,  that  the  measure  of  success  which  had  attended 
his  efforts,  was  largely  due  to  his  own  independent 
methods. 

This  was  acknowledged  by  many  to  be  true.  It  was 
said  that  he  followed  no  old  time-worn-  grooves,  except 
those  grooves  suited  his  ideas  of  right.  That  changes 
and  innovations  had  been  made  in  the  stereotyped 
methods  of  the  old  pedagogues,  was  apparent  to  all 
who  felt  sufficiently  interested  to  investigate  his 
methods  of  proceedure.  With  these  radical  changes 
came  frequent  uncomplimentary  criticisms ;  still  his 
interested  patrons  were  heard  to  say,  "He  certainly 
succeeds  in  imparting  instruction,  but  how  he  does  it 
I  cannot  say."  Passers-by  who  had  no  interest  in  the 
school  were  often  heard  to  say,  "The  teacher  of  that 
school  is  doing  no  good.  The  younger  class  of  pupils 
seem  to  spend  the  most  of  their  time  in  out-door 
sports." 

These  and  other  similar  criticisms  would  sometimes 
be  made  in  the  presence  of  earnest  supporters  of  the 
new  teacher  and  they  would  be  more  than  ready  to 
make  a  response,  something  like  this :  "My  friends,  let 
that  teacher,  his  school,  and  his  work  alone.  My  little 
children  have  learned  more  Jrom  him  in  three  months 
than  my  older  children  did,  at  their  ages,  in  two  years. 
What  care  I  about  their  being  out  at  play,  for  any 
length  of  time  during  the  day,  provided  their  progress 
is  all  right  ?  The  little  fellows  are  hearty,  healthy  and 
happy.  When  the  morning  comes,  all  of  my 


84  WHAT  NEXT? 

children  whom  I  send  to  school  are  anxious  to  be  off 
and  away  with  their  dinner  and  books.  There  is  no 
pulling  back,  nor  asking  to  be  excused  for  some  trivial 
reason.  In  fact,  even  when  there  is  a  good  purpose  in 
keeping  any  one  of  them  away  from  school,  for 
a  day  or  two,  there  is  a  loud  protest  against  this 
decision. 

"Again,  when  the  evening  draws  on  apace,  and  the 
time  of  my  children's  return  is  at  hand,  their  merry 
gambolings  and  cheery  laughter,  seen  and  heard  in  the 
distance,  is  more  than  a  golden  guarantee  that  no  one 
of  them  wears  a  sad  heart  because  of  tyranical 
mistreatment.  Even  little  Jennie,  our  baby  girl,  is 
anxious  to  tell  her  father  something  that  Mr.  Parsons 
has  said  or  done  during  the  day  just  past.  She  is 
even  persistent  in  holding  my  attention  as  her  auditor, 
and  will  not  be  satisfied  till  she  has  been  heard.  In 
these  little  manifestations  of  expanding  thought, 
repeated,  as  they  are,  in  the  rambling  prattle  of  my 
innocent  children,  it  is  clearly  shown  that  the  young 
teacher  has  found  his  way  to  their  hearts,  and  that 
their  confidence  in  him,  and  their  respect  for  him 
sanction  and  appove  the  sowing  of  truths,  little  by 
little,  in  their  minds.  Let  them  and  him  alone.  He 
is,  in  reality,  the  only  genuinely  live  teacher  we  have 
ever  had  in  our  neighborhood,  and  certainly  knows 
what  he  is  doing." 

At  the  close  of  Parsons'  second  school-year,  he  made 
a  visit  to  a  near  relative  living  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
State,  and,  while  there,  he  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  quite  a  number  of  young  people  with  whom  he 
was  very  much  pleased. 


WHAT  NEXT?  85 

The  uncle  and  aunt  to  whom  John  made  this  visit 
had  not  seen  their  nephew  "since  he  was  but  a  small 
boy,  and  being  pleased  with  his  general  appearance  as 
well  as  his  seeming  mental  vigor,  at  once  resolved  to 
do  what  they  could,  in  the  way  of  contributing  to  the 
pleasure  of  their  kinsman's  visit. 

This  uncle  was  "quite  well  to  do,"  as  was  some 
times  said  of  the  man  who  lived  in  affluence.  He  had 
no  children,  and  was  nevertheless  very  fond  of  the 
company  of  the  young.  These  facts  being  true,  it  was 
not  at  all  strange  that  the  home  of  these  two  people, 
who.  notwithstanding  they  were  advanced  in  years, 
should  have  been  a  frequent  resort  for  young  ladies. 

Mr.  Raymond  Parsons,  for  such  was  the  name  of 
John's  uncle,  having  found,  by  a  somewhat  rigid  course 
of  catechism,  that  the  nephew  had  brought  with  him 
no  half-cured  cicatrices,  indicating  former  wounds  from 
the  arrows  of  the  blind  god,  nor  that  he  was  the  wearer 
of  any  fresh  scars  from  the  same  hoodwinked  archer, 
determined  at  once  to  set  on  foot  a  plan  for  starting  a 
little  bit  of  practice  in  sharp-shooting  to  be  directed  by 
the  tiny  son  of  Venus. 

For  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  find  some  bright-eyed  specimen  of 
womanhood  who  would  be  willing  to  lend  a  helping 
hand  to  Aphrodite's  spoiled  child,  he  only  needing  to 
have  his  blinded  aim  directed  to  the  center  of  the 
target. 

Mr.  Parsons,  Sr.,  believing  himself  to  be  possessed 
of  a  liberal  share  of  aesthetic  taste,  concluded  that  a 
young  lady  with  whom  he  was  well  acquainted,  and 
who,  together  with  other  young  ladies,  was  a  some 
what  frequent  visitor  at  his  home,  was  the  very  party 


86  WHAT  NEXT? 

to  be  made  the  indicated  object  of  the  proposed  trial 
at  archerj'.  The  elder  Parsons,  being  fully  acquainted, 
not  only  with  the  young  lady  herself,  and  her  general 
characteristics,  but  with  her  family  history  as  well, 
thought  her  a  most  admirable  specimen  of  her  sex, 
and  that  she  would  make  some  man  a  most  excellent 
and  devoted  wife.  John's  aunt  fully  endorsed  any  com 
pliment  that  her  husband  might  pay  to  the  young  lad}T 
in  question,  and,  in  true  maternal  style,  informed  her 
nephew  that  there  was  no  brighter  girlhood  jewel  in 
all  that  country  than  Miss  Mary  Lawson. 

Mrs.  Lawson,  the  mother  of  Miss  Mary,  was  a  widow 
for  the  second  time,  and  had  three  children,  all 
daughters — one  by  her  first  marriage  and  two  by  her 
second.  The  daughter  of  the  first  marriage  was 
herself  a  widow,  and  because  of  her  disposition  as  well 
as  her  age  and  a  somewhat  varied  experience,  had 
considerable  influence  with  her  mother  and  her  counsel 
was  a  kind  sine  qua  non  with  her  two  half  sisters. 

The  party  who  had  such  a  controlling  influence  over 
her  sisters  had  been  quite  unfortunate  in  her  matri 
monial  venture  and  was  therefore  rather  a  poor 
confidential  counselor  to  those  who  were  discussing 
with  themselves  the  attributes  which  ought  to  recom 
mend  a  young  man  who  might  "a  wooing  come." 

She  had  been,  what  would  be  called  in  modern 
parlance,  a  society  woman.  She  was,  before  her 
marriage,  thought  to  be  quite  handsome.  She  posses- 
ed  considerable  mental  activity,  and  was  popular. 
But,  like  a  great  many  women  of  our  day,  even  in  that 
far  away  time,  the  glitter,  the  show,  and  the  sham  of 
society  were  the  things  to  which  she  sacrified  the  best 
offering  of  her  young  mind  and  body.  The  rate  at 


WHAT  NEXT?  87 

which  the  wheels  of  progress  moved  were  too  tardy  to 
suit  her  ambition.  She  wanted  the  young  women  of 
her  time  to  demand  an  acceleration  in  the  machinery 
which  moved  the  steps  of  fashionable  society.  She 
admired  men  of  dash,  as  she  expressed  it — men  who 
dressed  a  la  mode — men  who  drove  fast  and  fancy 
teams. 

For  the  reasons  named,  Mrs.  Nora  Gaines,  the 
widowed  sister  of  Miss  Mary  Lawson,  in  her  anti- 
marital  state,  scarcely  gave  the  consideration  of 
business  qualifications  a  passing  thought.  The  painted 
gew-gaws,  and  pretentious  frauds  of  society  were  the 
baits  to  which  she  was  attracted,  and  by  which  she 
was  ultimately  caught.  The  angler  who  succeeded  in 
putting  her  upon  his  string,  was,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  what  was  then  styled  a  dandy,  but  who,  in 
modern  parlance  would  be  called  a  dude.  Fast  living, 
heavy  sporting  and  midnight  reveling  had  made  serious 
inroads  upon  his  constitution,  even  before  his  marriage, 
and,  with  scarcely  the  length  of  two  honeymoons 
enjoyed  in  wedlock,  this  sample  of  fast  and  fashion 
able  manhood  passes  into  the  unseen. 

Early  impressions  are  the  hardest  to  eradicate,  and 
although  Mrs.  Gaines  had  passed  through  an  ordeal 
that  ought  surely  to  have  corrected  some  of  her  errone 
ous  notions  in  regard  to  what  it  takes  to  make  the  sum 
of  true  merit  in  man,  her  opinions,  in  regard  to 
what  the  genuine  attractions  of  men  were,  found  but 
little  modification  in  her  mind  by  even  a  bitter  experi 
ence.  As  a  young  widow,  she  was  both  gay  and  giddy. 
Her  badges  of  mourning  were  well  nigh  as  short-lived 
as  had  been  her  married  experience ;  and,  again  out  in 
society,  she  seemed  to  have  changed  her  fancies  in 


88  WI?AT  NEXT? 

no  noticeable  particular.  The  gaudy  trappings  of 
fashionable  society  had  lost  none  of  their  attractiveness, 
nor  had  genuine  merit  gained  any  foothold  upon  her 
appreciation. 

When  John's  uncle  had  delivered  himself  of  the 
summary  of  encomiums  which  he  bestowed  upon  Miss 
Mary  Lawson,  he  instituted  quite  a  striking  contrast 
between  Miss  Mary  and  her  widowed  sister.  In  fact 
he  ran  through  a  kind  of  epitome  of  the  family  history 
and  genealogical  pedigree.  He  had  known  the  family 
through  many  3*ears,  and  was  consequently  well 
informed  as  to  the  general  characteristics  of  the  entire 
household. 

Mary  Lawson  was  an  especial  favorite  of  John's 
uncle.  He  had  known  her  from  infancy,  and  even 
while  she  was  only  a  young  specimen  of  a  school  girl, 
he  regarded  her  as  especially  handsome,  and  from  her 
visits  to  his  home,  he  had  discovered  some  of  the  most 
amiable  and  lovety  traits  of  character  that  he  had  ever 
known  to  be  possessed  by  any  one.  He  had  watched 
her  gradual  development  into  womanhood,  and,  with 
that  unfolding,  he  had  noticed  that  the  superior  charms 
which  she  possessed,  crowned  as  were  hers,  with  an 
embellishment  of  modest}*,  made  her  an  object  of 
especial  admiration. 

With  the  opinion  which  John's  uncle  entertained 
with  regard  to  the  mental  embellishments,  as  well  as  to 
the  physical  beauty  of  Miss  Lawson,  it  is  not  to  be 
Avondered  at,  that  he  should  have  recommended  her  to 
his  nephew  as  a  prize  of  rare  worth. 

"I  would  not,  under  any  circumstances,  be  consid 
ered  as  desiring  to  push  upon  your  notice  even  so 
worthy  an  object  of  admiration  as  the  young  lady 


WHAT  NEXT?  89 

named,"  said  John's  uncle.  "But  inasmuch  as  you 
are  my  guest,  as  well  as  my  kinsman,  I  desire  that  you 
shall  have  a  real  good  time  while  you  are  with  us,  and 
I  presume  I  have  violated  no  law  of  hospitality  or 
politeness,  by  selecting  for  you  a  sweetheart  pro  tern., 
from  among  our  nice  and  worthy  girls.  I  want  you  to 
become  acquainted  with  Miss  Mary  Lawson,  and  my 
word  for  it,  I  think  you  will  recognize  the  fact  that 
your  uncle  has  good  judgment  as  well  as  good  taste." 

"From  the  recommendation  which  you  and  my  dear 
aunt  give  the  young  lady  in  question,"  said  John,  "I 
have  already  a  kind  of  half  admiration  awakened  in 
1113-  mind  from  the  contemplation  of  a  word  picture  you 
have  drawn  of  the  young  lady  for  my  inspection.  What 
my  impression  will  be  from  viewing  her  who  has 
evidently  sat  for  the  portraiture  you  have  kdrawn,  I 
have,  of  course,  no  means  of  knowing.  I  would  not 
flatter  myself  as  being  endowed  with  any  unusual 
amount  of  the  aesthetic  in  taste,  but  may  be  permitted 
to  say,  without  any  imputation  of  egotism,  that  the 
very  acme  of  natural  beauty  is  easily  discovered  by 
my  eyes,  in  the  feature  and  form  of  a  beautiful  woman; 
I  would,  however,  have  it  distinctly  understood,  that 
beauty  is  not  found  in  a  classic  but  passionless  face — 
not  found  in  a  symmetrical  form,  except  the  symmetry, 
wedded  to  ease  and  grace  of  motion  and  nimbleness  of 
body  is  conspicuously  present  in  locomotion." 

"Indeed  you  seem  to  have  studied  some  of  the  chief 
features  in  human  beauty  at  least,  and  to  have 
prepared  yourself  by  an  analysis  of  'The  human  form 
divine,'  to  be  your  own  judge  of  what  it  takes  to 
constitute  true  beauty,"  says  the  uncle. 


"90  WHAT  NEXT? 

"There  is  no  accounting  for  taste,'  said  the  Roman 
philosopher  in  the  long  ago.  It  is  well,  I  suppose," 
said  John,  "that  the  above  is  a  trueism,  else  there 
would  be  a  most  stupendous  amount  of  dissatisfaction 
with  a  very  large  majority  of  the  human  family  because 
of  an  insufficiency  of  approved  material  to  meet  the 
•demands  of  an  overwhelming  multitude  who  judged 
beauty  according  to  precisely  the  same  rules.  I  have 
my  own  ideas  of  what  the  constituencies  of  beautj"  are, 
and,  because  my  ideas  may  differ  from  yours,  it  by  no 
means  necessarily  follows  that  you  are  wrong  and  I  am 
right.  Our  tastes  may  be  different,  and  this  being  true, 
viewed  from  this  standpoint,  we  are  both  right." 

"There  is  something  that  is  inherent  in  man,  and 
which,  taste  not  considered,  is  a  universal  attribute  of 
the  race,  and  absolutely  necessary  as  well  as  universal. 
I  refer  to  the  attraction,  or  affinity  which  one  sex  has 
for  the  other." 

"I  can  probably  illustrate  what  I  mean  by  referring 
to  a  problematic  case,  in  which  a  ship-wrecked  child 
found  a  home  on  an  island  uninhabited,  save  by  the 
goats  which  found  food  and  shelter  amid  its  richness, 
and  from  the  udders  of  which  goats  the  child  received 
sustenance  until  he  had  grown  into  a  condition  of 
self-support.  By  and  by  three  seamen  were  cast  upon 
the  island,  and  from  these  the  original  second  Selkirk 
learned  a  language,  and  through  that  became  some 
what  acquainted  with  the  world  of  humanity  that  lay 
far  beyond  his  horizon.  After  a  long,  weary  wait  of 
years,  subsequent  to  the  washing  ashore  of  the  frail 
craft  upon  which  the  three  sailors  had  been  saved  from 
being  engulfed  in  Neptune's  dark  domain,  a  ship, 
whose  crew  was  prospecting,  made  a  landing  upon  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  91 

island  and  rescued  the  four  men  from  a  worse  fate 
than  lingering  torment.  Upon  the  arrival  of  the  vessel 
in  the  home-port,  amid  the  amazing  display  of  wonders 
which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  foundling  passen 
ger,  were  women,  who,  in  gay  attire,  were  upon 
the  dock,  and,  never  having  seen  a  woman,  he  was 
very  ready  to  ask  what  the}7  were.  Upon  being  told 
by  one  of  his  companions  that  they  were  geese,  "It 
matters  not,"  said  he,  "what  they  are,  I  want  one." 

"Now,  Uncle,  I  have  never  arrived  at  the  point  in 
life  when  I  felt  that  I,  like  the  rescued  foundling, 
wanted  the  reputed  goose.  I  have  never  been  so 
overwhelmed  by  the  superior  beauty  and  transcendent 
loveliness  of  any  woman  as  to  feel  that  my  heart  was 
not  throbbing  away  in  undisturbed  equanimity.  I  am, 
however,  by  no  means  indifferent  to  the  attraction  of 
womanly  beauty;  I  have  already  indicated  that,  and 
while  I  may  not  feel  myself,  in  any  way,  prepared  to 
throw  myself  upon  the  mercy  of  any  fair  nymph  who 
might  feel  disposed  to  capture  me,  nolens  volens,  I  will 
do  myself  the  honor,  as  well  as  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
the  noble  and  handsome  young  lady,  of  whom  you 
have  spoken  in  such  glowing  terms,  provided  you  will 
favor  me  with  an  introduction  at  some  convenient  but 
not  distant  period.  I  say  distant,  because,  as  you 
know,  my  visit  can  be  protracted  through  only  a  limited 
stay." 

"Well,  John,"  said  his  uncle,  "your  speech  is  rather 
a  puzzle  to  me.  You  philosophize  about  matters 
matrimonial  in  such  a  way  as  to  lead  me  to  infer  that 
such  a  subject  has  not  been  ignored  in  the  prosecution 
of  your  other  studies.  That  you  are  not  insensible  to 
the  charms  of  female  loveliness,  you  have  averred,  that 


92  WHAT  NEXT? 

you  are  not,  nor  have  been  in  any  entanglements, 
whereby  you  have  sought  to  win  access  to  the  heart  of 
any  trusting  damsel,  is  to  me  a  matter  of  some 
surprise.  I  would  not  seek  to  flatter  you;  but, 'with 
your  sprightliness — with  your  trim  and  well  propor 
tioned  physique — with  your  more  than  passable  and 
regular  features,  I  can  hardly  see  how  you  have  so  far 
escaped  the  toils  that  are  so  artfully  thrown  in  the 
pathway  of  young  men  by  the  outgrowth  of  undis 
guised  admiration.  How  is  it  John,  that  with  these 
common  environments  you  have  come  off  unscathed, 
and  that  your  heart  is  really  and  truly  your  own?" 

"I  know  of  no  reason  for  the  condition  of  affairs,  as 
between  myself  and  the  world  of  womankind,  except 
that  I  have  been  too  earnestly  engrossed  with  my 
business  to  allow  myself  the  time  to  take  other  matters 
under  consideration.  I  have  been  fond  of  society,  but 
I  have  made  that  fondness  yield  to  the  pressing 
demands  of  my  daily  work." 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  uncle.  "This  may  have  been 
the  part  of  wisdom,  and  I  am  disposed  to  commend 
you  for  it,  but  you  are  now  out,  I  presume  for  pleasure 
rather  than  on  a  business  mission,  and  that  your  aunt 
and  myself  may  be  contributors  to  your  enjoyment,  she 
will  prepare  a  little  entertainment  in  honor  of  your 
visit;  a  number  of  young  people  shall  be  invited;  and, 
of  course  Miss  Mary  Lawson  will  be  among  the  guests. 
I  am  sure  she  will  not  decline  the  invitation,  for  she  is 
too  fond  of  your  aunt  to  slight  any  proffered  opportu 
nity  to  give  her  pleasure.  In  the  meantime,  I  will  see 
Miss  Mary,  and  will,  more  particularly,  explain  to  her 
the  reason  why  she  will  be  especially  expected.  Of 
course,  I  will  also  dish  out  a  few  handsome  compli- 


WHAT  NEXT?  93 

ments  in  your  behalf.  This  will  be  a  kind  of 
semi-introduction  to  you,  and,  I  am  sure,  will  help  her 
to  the  formation  of  a  favorable  opinion  of  my  young 
kinsman.  What  say  you?" 

''I  am  just  a  little  bit  inclined  to  doubt  the  propriety 
of  these  preliminaries,"  said  John.  "However,  as 
your  experience  would  at  least  warrant  me  in  the  belief 
that  you  would  make  no  serious  blunders,  I  will  defer 
to  your  judgment,  and  I  leave  this  whole  matter  in 
your  hands.  But  my  uncle  must  not  get  me  into  any 
entanglement,  from  which,  with  his  help,  I  cannot  be 
extricated." 

"All  right,  my  boy,"  said  the  uncle,  "you  need 
entertain  no  serious  alarm  over  the  outcome  of  your 
visit.  Miss  Lawson  is  a  beautiful,  intelligent,  sweet- 
tempered  and  modest  young  lady.  I  want  you  to 
meet  her.  I  know  you  will  admire  her.  Admiration 
need'not,  however,  develop  into  anything  more  serious. 
Upon  this  point,  if  you  feel  you  would  be  in  any  danger, 
throw  out  your  guard-lines,  and  keep  yourself  panoplied 
for  the  fray." 

"When  is  it  proposed,  uncle,  that  the  indicated 
entertainment  is  to  take  place?" 

"I  think  your  aunt  has  decided  upon  next  Monday 
night.  This  being  Fridaj7,  the  time  is  but  three  days 
away." 

"Will  Mrs.  Gaines,  Miss  Lawson's  half-sister,  be 
among  those  who  will  be  invited?" 

"I  think  she  will;  but  I  am  disposed  to  at  least 
guess  she  will  not  accept  the  invitation.  She  is  what 
is  called  a  "high  flyer,"  and  puts  in  an  appearance 
only  where  there  is  a  large  share  of  ostentatious  and 
gilded  display.  The  gilding  may  be  very  thin,  but  she 


94  WHAT  NEXT? 

prefers  that  to  the  wholesome  and  well  labled  exhibit 
of  honest  and  industrious  plenty,  and,  for  that  reason, 
I  think  she  will  not  be  present.  But  what 
suggested  the  question  ?" 

"Your  fornjer  reference  to  the  lad}*  had  the  effect  of 
exciting  my  curiosity,  and  I  thought  I  might  possibly 
have  the  privilege  of  studying  the  contrast  between 
members  of  the  same  familj7  after  you  had  touched  up 
the  picture  of  each." 

"You  shall  have  the  privilege  of  deciding  for  your 
self  as  to  my  faithfulness  in  picture  drawing,  when  you 
shall  have  seen  the  originals  from  which  my  paintings 
were  made.  But,  waiving  the  further  discussion  of  the 
question  which  we  have  had  up.  we  will  give  heed  to 
the  call  of  the  hostler,  who  informs  me  the"""carriage  is 
in  waiting  to  bear  you,  your  aunt  and  myself  to  town. 
While  we  are  there  you  may  possibly  have  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  one  or  both  of  the  ladies 
mentioned,  even  if  you  are  not  furnished  with  an 
occasion  for  an  introduction  to  either." 

The  ride  to  the  city,  although  but  a  few  miles,  was 
pleasant,  especially  so,  as  John's  aunt,  a  very  superior 
woman,  enlivened  the  time  with  her  intelligent  discus 
sion  of  the  possibilities  which  fortuity  now  and  then 
exhibited,  especially  in  the  lives  of  the  young. 

With  the  discussion  of  the  live  issues  of  the  time, 
the  patient  waiting  upon  the  regular  and  sumptuous 
repasts  which  were  spread  three  times  per  day,  and  the 
usual  afternoon  pleasure  drives,  the  designated  hour 
for  the  proposed  entertainment  came  sooner  to  the 
expectant  visitor  than  it  would  otherwise  have  done. 

With  the  coming  of  the  appointed  hour  came  also  a 
number  of  carriages  to  the  home  of  John's  uncle,  and 


WHAT  XEXT?  95 

from  them  alighted  a  number  of  sweet-scented,  frilled 
and  furbelowed  3Toung  ladies  and  their  shampooed, 
barbered  and  mustache-curled  attendents.  [Bear  in 
mind,  please,  that  the  section  of  country  from  which 
this  especial  scene  was  taken  was  much  farther 
advanced  in  many  respects  than  was  John's  part  of  the 
State,  especially  in  its  means  of  locomotion.] 

The  young  people  having  been  escorted  into  the 
house  by  the  host,  each,  in  turn,  received  an  introduc 
tion  to  young  Mr.  Parsons,  who  gracefully  returned  the 
salutations  of  the  young  men,  and,  with  becoming 
dignity,  bowed  to  the  recognition  of  each  young  lady. 
When  he  received  his  introdction  to  Miss  Mary  Lawson 
a  slight  flush  was  observed  to  have  suffused  his  face, 
and,  to  the  careful  observer,  might  have  betrayed  a 
bit  of  momentary  excitement.  With  all  John's  self 
control,  this  flush  could  not  be  kept  from  putting  itself 
on  exhibition  ;  nor  was  it  even  to  himself  a  matter  of 
surprise,  for  he  certainly  had  heard  and  said,  enough 
about  the  young  lady  to  feel  that  the  very  air,  if  a  tell 
tale,  might  offer  her  a  sufficient  reason  for  allowing 
him  to  feel  that  an  introduction  to  her  was  worthy  of  a 
blush. 

The  hoodwinked  child  of  Kronas  was  ever  ready,  as 
he  always  has  been,  to  pursue  his  usual  style  of 
random  shooting  whenever  a  young  lady  and  a  young 
gentleman  meet  and  the  fountain  of  admiration 
becomes  stirred. 

Although  young  Parsons  had  become  sufficiently 
expert  in  dodging,  so  far,  the  arrows  of  the  wiley  little 
heart-hunter,  he  nevertheless,  in  his  first  encounter 
with  Miss  Lawson,  showed  that  he  wTas  not  proof 
against  his  attacks.  He  had  not  been  dipped  in  the 


96  WHAT  NEXT? 

Styx,     and  hence    unlike    the    warlike    Achilles,    was 
vulnerable  in  heart  as  well  as  heel. 

The  admirable  qualities  which  the  young  lady  pos 
sessed — qualities  of  both  head  and  heart,  and  which 
had  not  been  over-drawn  by  his  uncle,  challenged  the 
admiration  of  his  nephew  and  ran  that  admiration 
almost  to  an  extreme.  These  qualities  had  shown 
themselves  to  be  deeplj'  rooted  in  the  very  nature 
of  the  young  lady  as  she  discussed  with  Parsons  some 
of  the  subtle  questions  of  ethics. 

The  young  man  was  a  voluntary  captive.  Had  the 
young  lady  chosen  on  this,  their  first  meeting,  to  have 
forged  the  fetters  with  which  to  bind  him  a  willing 
slave,  he  would  have  submitted.  But  Parsons  was  too 
astute  to  admit,  in  words,  the  condition  he  was  in. 
What  she  might  have  discovered  in  the  alternate 
flushes  of  his  face  as  they  came  and  went,  she  alone 
could  tell.  What  she  might  have  read  in  the  speak 
ing  brilliancy  of  his  dark  eyes  may  have  been  a 
revelation  to  her,  of  how  his  quiet,  but  expressive 
words  were  belying  the  tumultuous  emotions  of  his 
soul. 

Had  it  been  prophesie  1  that  the  philosophic,  self- 
governed  young  teacher  would,  so  soon,  be  metamor 
phosed  into  a  half  demented  worshiper  at  the  feet  of  a 
female  beauty,  his  friends  would  have  scouted  at  the 
idea  of  such  a  prophecy  being  fulfilled.  But,  skeptical 
as  his  friends  might  have  been  as  to  his  human 
weakness,  it  was  at  last  found  that  even  the  young 
stoic  had  undervalued  his  own  strength. 

Under  the  circumstances,  John  wanted  to  be  honest 
with  himself.  With  candor  and  frankness  he  began  a 
self-examination  just  as  soon  as  his  first  meeting  with 


WHAT  XEXT?  97 

Miss  Lawson  was.  ended  and  she  had  returned  to  her 
home.  Having  bared  the  wound  which  he  had  received 
and  subjected  the  same  to  his  own  personal  inspection, 
he  became  perfectly  satisfied  that  no  curative  balm 
could  be  applied  except  at  the  hands  of  Miss  Lawson. 
He  did  not  intimate  to  her  that  she  had  placed  him  in 
an  unenvious  position,  for  the  reason  that  she  had 
some  suspicion  of  collusion  with  the  little  nude  god. 
If  this  were  so,  she  became  particeps  criminis  in  his 
undoing,  and  therefore  owed  it  to  herself  as  well  as  to 
him  that  she  would  repair  the  injury  he  had  sustained. 
When  she  became  advised  of  the  mischief  she  had 
worked,  the  absorbing  question  with  the  wounded  was, 
will  she  administer  an  antidote?  Will  she  lend  the 
wounded  her  immediate  attention  ? 

This  being  John's  first  onset  by  symptoms,  which 
he  considered  to  be  somewhat  alarming,  he  was  quite 
ready  to  aver  that  he  had  been  attacked  by  all  kinds 
of  juvenile  maladies,  such  as  whooping-cough,  measles, 
dyphtheria  and  scarlet  fever,  and  that  he  had  been 
more  than  a  match  for  them  all,  but  to  be  shot  from 
ambush  by  such  an  arrow,  and  from  such  a  source, 
he  was  afraid  would  defy  any  treatment  that  was  not 
heroic. 

How  very  strange  that  such  a  man,  under  such  circum 
stances,  should  have  been  so  puerile  as  to  thus 
soliloquize.  How  very  strange  that  such  a  man,  under 
any  conditions,  should  so  far  give  way  to  emotions 
of  uncontrolled  admiration,  as  to  be  no  longer  himself! 
Why  indeed  should  a  man  have  become  a  coward  because 
a  set  of  complacent  smiles  were  playing  hide-and-seek 
in  his  presence,  amid  the  dimples  of  a  roseate  pair 
of  cheeks  ? 

WHAT  NEXT? — 7. 


98  W11AT  NEXT? 

Why  should  a  man  have  been  compelled  to  crouch, 
through  fear,  of  the  lurking  brightness  of  a  pair  of  dark 
eyes,  turned  upon  his  ?  Luna's  attendant  star, 
seeking  refuge  beneath  a  pendant  cloud,  is  just  as  free 
from  doing  harm,  as  is  the  smile  which  half  way  loses 
itself  among  the  fringing  curls  that  curtain  the  fore 
head  of  a  beautiful  girl.  The  star  is  a  part  of  the 
heavenly  adornment — the  smile  is  a  part  of  earth's 
unforfeited  Edenized  glory. 

Although  Parsons  felt  himself  to  be  completely 
infatuated  with  the  charms  of  Miss  Lawson,  he  was 
absolutely  silent  in  regard  to  the  impressions  she  had 
made  upon  him.  With  a  considerable  degree  of 
composure  he  asked  her  if  it  would  be  agreeable  to  her 
to  have  him  call  upon  her,  at  her  home  the  next  day. 
To  this  she  readily  assented,  and  accordingly,  the  follow 
ing  afternoon  he  rode  over  to  the  home  of  Mrs.  Lawson. 
Before  starting,  however,  John  made  a  clean-cut 
statement  to  the  uncle  of  the  impressions  the  young  lady 
had  made  upon  him,  and  gave  him  to  understand,  that 
he  did  not  propose  to  allow  the  thing  to  stop  with  a 
bare  expression  of  his  admiration — that  either  more 
good  or  more  harm  must  be  the  result  to  him  of  his 
meeting  with  Miss  Lawson. 

The  uncle  laughed,  and  while  commending  him  for 
his  determination,  intimated  his  surprise  that  such 
results  should  attend  so  short  an  interview.  While 
still  jeering  the  nephew  over  the  indorsement  he  had 
given  to  his  exemplified  taste,  the  nephew  mounted  his 
horse,  and  was  off  for  the  Lawson  homestead.  Upon 
his  arrival,  Miss  Lawson  met  him  with  some  degree  of 
complacency,  but,  as  John  thought,  with  scarcely  as 
much  manifested  pleasure  as  she  ought  to  have 


WHAT  NEXT?  99 

exhibited,  if  not  for  his  own  sake,  at  least  for  the  sake 
of  his  uncle  and  aunt,  for  whom  she  professed  such 
ardent  attachment.  This  introduction  to  the  young 
lady,  in  the  midst  of  her  home  environment,  had  a 
tendency  to  cool  the  ardor  of  the  young  man,  and 
cause  him  to  put  on  his  studying  cap.  However,  with 
the  adage  dancing  through  his  mind,  that  "faint  heart 
never  won  fair  lady,"  he  choked  down  his  little 
discomfiture  and  resolved  to  make  his  visit,  if  possi 
ble,  two-fold  in  results:  namely,  one  of  pleasure  coupled 
with  business. 

Calling  attention  to  the  meeting  of  the  day  before, 
he  chose,  somewhat  tenderly,  to  allude  to  the  effect  of 
meeting  with  her,  and  the  impressions  she  had  made 
upon  his  mind  and  heart.  He  was  quite  candid  in 
saying  to  her,  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  had 
to  acknowledge  that  he  had  been  brought  under  the 
power  and  dominion  of  love's  potent  influence — that 
she  had  been  the  first  to  wield  the  wand  over  him, 
which  wounds,  but  often  wounds  but  to  cure. 

With  an  expression  of  surprise,  but  at  the  same  time 
with  utmost  composure,  she  stated  to  the  young 
gallant,  that  if  she  had,  in  any  way,  been  connected 
with  the  wounding  to  which  he  alluded,  it  had  certainly 
been  an  innocent  and  unintentional  act  upon  her  part. 
"Please  pardon  me,  Mr.  Parsons,  and  allow  me  to  say, 
that,  while  I  am  not  even  a  novitiate  in  the  arts  of 
^sculapius  I  might  possibly  administer  a  palliative 
for  yoijr  trouble,  if  I  knew  just  what  to  give,  how  much 
to  give,  and  in  what  proportions  to  dish  out  my 
remedy." 

But  for  the  fact  that  John  thought  he  discovered  a 
show  of  facetiousness  in  the  foregoing  speech  of  Miss 


100  WHAT  NEXT? 

Mary,  he  might  have  brought  the  afternoon  colloquy  to 
a  sudden  termination,  and  have  almost  as  suddenly 
made  his  exit.  There  was  no  evidence  of  sarcasm 
however  in  what  she  said  ;  and,  while  studying  to  have 
the  pose  of  candor,  there  was  a  twinkle  that  plaj'ed 
about  her  bright  eyes  which  at  once  revealed  the  spirit 
of  mirthfulness  that  lay  back  of  her  proposition  to 
furnish  her  visitor  help  if  she  knew  how. 

Before  the  young  lady  had  scarcely  time  to  consider 
the  weight  and  importance  of  John  Parsons'  well  present 
ed  claims,  she  found  she  had  been  absolutely  courted, 
and  that  the  claimant  for  her  heart  and  hand  was 
uneasily  awaiting  her  reply. 

After  waiting  for  some  moments  in  silence  and 
anxious  solicitude  for  the  answer  which  he  supposed  the 
young  lad}'  was  framing,  she  at  last  informed  him, 
with  some  trepidation,  that  she  hardly  felt  ready,  upon 
so  short  an  acquaintance,  to  give  him  even  an  evasive 
answer.  She  told  him  that  she  had  been  most 
favorably  impressed  both  with  his  personal  appearance 
and  the  reputation  for  integrity,  honor  and  uprightness 
which  he  had  brought  with  him, as  per  the  indorsement 
of  his  uncle,  in  whose  judgement  she  had  an  almost 
unlimited  confidence,  but  in  making  a  decision  where  so 
much  might  be  involved,  she  preferred  to  postpone 
rendering  any  definite  answer  to  his  question  until  she 
had  held  a  consultation  with  some  one,  who,  from  a 
personal  interest  in  her  welfare,  would  deal  with  his 
question  in  honest  candor. 

With  this  statement,  Parsons  wanted  to  know  whether 
she  had  any  one  mentally  selected,  in  whose  good  sense 
and  absolutely  sound  judgment  she  could  implicitly  rely, 
and  if  she  held  in  her  mind  any  such  a  counselor,  if 
she  would  object  to  giving  him  the  name. 


WHAT  NEXT?  101 

To  this  query  Miss  Lawson  made  ready  response. 
She  stated  that  in  a  matter  so  all-important  as  a 

• 

matrimonial  alliance,  she  was  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  none  were  so  much  interested  in  the  step  proposed 
to  be  taken,  (the  principal  excepted)  ,*m  entering  into 
the  marriage  relation,  as  immediate  family  relatives, 
and,  this  being  true,  she  would  seek  a  confidant  and 
counselor  among  such  relatives. 

One  other  question  Parsons  asked  the  privilege  of 
submitting,  which  was,  as  to  who  the  party  was,  in 
her  o\vn  family,  before  whom  she  proposed  to  leave  the 
adjustment  of  his  pleading. 

To  this  question  the  young  lady  made  answer, 
stating  that  she  had  a  widowed  sister,  considerably 
older  than  herself,  and  who,  from  the  superior  amount 
of  her  experience,  would  be  a  good'  advisor,  and  that, 
therefore,  she  would  lay  the  matter  before  her  first. 

The  decision  thus  expressed  was  very  far  from  meet 
ing  the  approbation  of  him  who  had,  with  all  the 
earnestness  of  an  ardent  nature,  pleaded  his  case,  and  an 
immediate  resolve  was  made  by  him  to  appeal  his  case 
to  a  tribunal  in  which  her  heart  was  to  sit  in  judgment, 
and  the  nobler  emotions  and  sentiments  of  her  pure- 
soul  to  render  a  better  verdict.  It  was 'a  case  of  love's 
labor  lost.  Parsons  plead  his  cause  with  all  the  earnest 
ness  of  a  forensic  hero,  but  neither  the  philosophic 
presentation  of  facts  nor  the  poetic  pictures  of  a 
brightening  future  could  divert  Miss  Lawson  from  her 
original  purpose  of  laying  the  pending  proposition 
before  the  widow  Gaines. 

The  defeat  which  Parsons  sustained  was  severe, 
even  the  very  skies  seemed  to  draw  over  themselves  a 
foreboding  shadow,  and  a  prophecj"  for  the  future  was 
full  of  doubt  and  uncertainty. 


102  WHAT  NEXT? 

After  the  complete  and  final  rendering  of  the  young 
.  lady's  edict,  without  any  outward  show  of  having 
received  a  new  wound,  Parsons  deliberately,  com 
posedly,  and  with  true  gentlemanly  politeness,  bowed 
himself  out  of  the  presence  of  Miss  Lawson,  after  a 
promise  to  call  again  within  a  few  days. 

Actively  mounting  his  horse,  and,  being  a  good  and 
graceful  equestrian,  he  was  soon  out  of  the  sight  of  a  pair 
of  black  eyes  that  were  watching  his  retreating  from 
though  a  window  of  the  room  he  had  just  vacated. 
Somehow,  she  felt  lonesome,  and  mentally  asked, 
What  Next?  While  Parsons  pushed  forward  and  won- 
ered  What  Next? 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"Ye  cruel  powers! 

Take  me,  as  you  have  made  me  miserable ; 
Ye  cannot  make  me  guilty  !  'twas  my  fate; 
And  3'ou  made  that,  not  1." 

FHE  history  of  John  Parsons'  first  love  affair  was 
very  similar  to  that  of  every  other  young  man 
who  has  been  caught  in  the  toils  of  female 
beauty.  Enthusiastic  and  sentimental,  in 
making  his  first  offering  upon  a  shrine  which  he  had 
erected  to  his  girl  idol,  he  became  but  a  copyist,  for 
thousands,  in  every  land,  and  through  the  agesr  had 
been  doing  the  same  thing. 

Ordinarily  the  young  man  kept  himself  subject  to* 
the  most  rigid  discipline.  It  was  hard,  therefore,  under 
any  kind  of  circumstances,  to  throw  him  off  his  guard. 
But,  while  this  was  true,  it  has  been  found  •  already 
to  be  equally  true,  that  his  self-imposed  shield  of 
cautious  circumspection  did  not  protect  him  from  the 
insidious  wiles  which  danced  and  sported  in  the  eyes 
of  beauty.  He  had  met  a  sprite.  She  had  made  an 
impressive  appeal  to  his  taste,  and  before  that  appeal 
he  grew  sick — love  sick,  and  at  once  betrayed  the 
weakness  of  his  sex.  In  his  dilemma  he  might  have 
said,  in  the  language  of  Burns  : 

It  warms  me.  it  charms  me, 
To  mention  but  her  name; 
It  heats  me,  it  beats  me. 
And  sets  me  a'  on  flame. 

The  stubborn  will  of  the  young  man  had  been 
broken,  and,  as  never  before,  he  felt  himself  the  willing 
subject  of  a  tyrannizing  power.  He  felt  that  he  was  in 
a  strait  which  rendered  his  condition  both  desperate 
and  dangerous.  Procrastination  he  regarded  as  the 


104  WHAT  NEXT? 

poet's  thief,  and  was  in  dread  lest  this  thief  should 
steal  the  opportunity  of  having  his  heart's  unbounded 
desire  gratified.  Such  was  the  character  of  the 
thoughts  that  ran  through  the  mind  of  the  visitor,  but 
which,  with  the  exercise  of  a  prudential  reticence  he 
kept  closeted  in  the  recesses  of  his  own  soul.  Indeed 
it  would  not  have  been  at  all  like  John  Parsons'  very 
self,  to  have  seen  him  pursue  any  other  course.  Even 
upon  his  meeting  Miss  Lawson  for  the  first  time,  after 
her  decision  to  leave  the  result  of  his  unfortunate 
pleadings  to  the  adjustment  of  the  widowed  sister, 
there  was  no  betrayal  of  boyish  weakness,  by  act,  word 
or  look.  In  the  ordeal  through  which  he  was  being 
passed,  he  was  schooling  himself,  with  stoic  fortitude, 
for  an  uncomplaining  acceptance  of  the  final  result  of 
his  sueing  for  the  hand  of  the  young  lady.  He  may 
have  winced  and  squirmed  under  the  potency  of  a  love- 
stroke,  as  many  a  poor  boy  had  done  before  him,  and 
many  have  done  since,  but,  if  so.  no  one  but  John 
Parsons  knew  how  much,  for,  amid  all  that  was  tran 
spiring,  there  was  an  out-cropping  of  that  calm 
dispassionate  resolve  that  had  been  one  of  his 
prominent  characteristics. 

Between  the  time  of  John's  first  and  second  visits  to 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Lawson.  her  daughter  had  made  a 
full  statement  of  the  proposal  to  Mrs.  Gaines  which  she 
had  received  at  the  hands  of  young  Mr.  Parsons, 
together  with  all  the  attending  circumstances — the 
introduction,  the  recommendations,  and  their  source  ; 
the  visit  which  she  had  received,  and  the  impressions 
which  the  young  stranger  had  made  upon  her  mind. 
In  addition  to  all  this,  she  informed  the  sister  just  what 
had  taken  place  between  herself  and  the  nephew  of 


WHAT  NEXT?  105 

her  especial  friends ;  and,  not  being  disposed  to  act 
hastily,  or  without  consulting  some  one  of  experience, 
she  had  brought  the  matter  before  her  sister  for  her 
counsel. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  lady  from  whom 
the  advice  was  sought,  had  some  very  strange 
ideas  about  life,  its  purposes,  its  responsibilities  and 
its  duties.  It  will  be  remembered  as  well,  that  this 
same  lady,  in  her  marital  enterprise,  had  been  especially 
unfortunate.  The  recollection  of  these  facts  may 
serve,  in  a  measure,  to  explain  the  character  of  the 
advice  which  Mrs.  Gaines  gave  to  her  sister,  and  during 
the  rendering  of  whose  opinion,  the  following  colloquy 
took  place : 

"You  are  already  aware,  I  presume,  my  dear  sister," 
said  Mrs.  Gaines,  ''that  I  am  disposed  to  look  with 
distrust  upon  every  love  affair  in  its  incipient  stage." 

"And  why  so  ?"  said  Mary. 

"Simply  because  among  the  many  cases  that  have 
come  within  the  purview  of  my  observation  a  major 
ity  of  the  marriages  in  our  country  are  unfortunate." 

"But  because  this  is  the  case,  as  observed  by  you,  it 
does  not  follow  that  all  observers  would  bear  the  same 
testimony.  Besides,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  said 
Mary,  "that  you  have  had  your  attention  drawn  to  the 
unfortunate  rather  than  to  the  fortunate  marriages?" 

"Possibly  your  suggestion  is  true,  but  I  think  the 
probabilities  are  in  my  favor,"  replied  Mrs.  Gaines. 

"Well,  sister,"  said  the  younger  lady,  "I  think  I 
have  heard  you  express  some  rather  strange  views  upon 
the  subject  of  practical  coquetry,  have  I  not?" 

"You  have  heard  me  express  myself  upon  that 
subject,"  said  the  elder,  "but  I  do  not  know  that  my 
opinions  are  peculiarly  rny  own." 


106  WHAT  NEXT? 

"Well,  my  reason  for  wishing  to  draw  3*011  out,  in 
regard  to  this  practice,  is  found  in  the  fact  that  I 
thought  it  would  have  been  an  easy  task  to  have 
deceived  Mr.  Parsons  by  playing  for  him  a  game  of 
coquetry.  Besides,"  said  Mary,  "I  think  the  ardent 
nature  of  the  young  man  has  never  been  brought  in 
contact  with  much  of  the  deception  of  the  world,  and 
that,  being  credulous,  he  could  have  been  easily 
deceived  by  a  sham  show  of  admiration.  The  young 
man,  however,  seemed  so  perfectly  honest  and  unsus 
pecting,  that  I  thought  it  would  be  a  crueltj"  to  deal 
with  him  dishonestly." 

"Do  not  call  putting  a  young  man  in  leading  strings 
dishonesty,  Mary.  Do  not  call  the  fashionable  practice 
of  carrying  on  a  flirtation  dishonesty.  It  is  a  game  at 
which  two  adepts  may  play,  and  neither  be  cheated, 
and  a  game  which  the  novice  may  profit  by  learning. 
The  game  is  a  pleasant  but  sometimes  a  dangerous 
pastime.  In  fact,  I  think  it  is  of  doubtful  propriety 
for  young  people  to  venture  upon  such  a  play  until 
they  have  become,  to  some  extent  at  least,  adepts  in 
physiognomy,  and  well  versed  in  deciphering  the  causes 
for  human  action." 

"Then  you  think,  sister,"  said  Mary,  "That  I  did 
right  in  playing  an  honest  part  towards  Mr.  Parsons, 
and  that  I  was  also  justifiable  in  insisting  upon  seek 
ing  your  advice  ?" 

"I  do.  You  may  think  you  comprehend  the 
fullness  of  the  innate  and  uncorrupted  honesty  of  Mr. 
Parsons,  but  Mary,  in  this  you  mpy  be  deceived.  If 
you  are  really  pleased  with  the  nephew  of  your  old 
friends,  I  hope  I  shall  find  your  estimate  of  his  mental 
and  moral  worth  fully  sustained  by  a  mature  acquaint- 


WHAT  NEXT?  107 

ance.  Of  one  thing,  however,  you  may  rest  assured. 
It  is  this.  Young  men  when  in  conversation  with 
young  ladies,  especially  in  regard  to  heart  trouble  do 
not  mean  one  half  of  what  they  say,  and,  in  a  majority 
of  instances,  are  nothing  but  frauds." 

"Sister,  3*011  are  certainl3r  rather  severe  in  3*our 
criticism  of  the  men.  Your  experience,  however,  would 
make  you  a  far  better  judge  of  how  much  credence  is  to 
be  put  in  what  they  say  than  I  am.  and,  for  that  reason,  I 
am  at  your  feet  as  a  seeker  for  further  wisdom,  in  order 
that  I  may  know  better  what  ni3*  duties  are  in  regard 
to  the  proposal  of  Mr.  Parsons. 

''Moral  circumspection.  Mar3*,  will  repel  an3r  undue 
amount  of  proffered  familiarity,  while  prudishness  will 
be  a  bar  to  the  approach  of  the  good  and  true.  A 
3*oung  lad\*  should  not  only  be  circumspect  in  the 
compam*  of  those  with  whom  she  is  but  slightly 
acquainted,  but  even  more  so  in  the  compaii}*  of  the 
well-known,  because  the  fruit  of  familiarity  is  contempt, 
and  contempt  is  the  vinegar  of  human  life." 

"I  am  not  disposed  to  question  the  correctness  of 
what  you  say  upon  these  points.  But  sister,"  said 
Mar\*,  "I  am  not  here  to  listen  to  a  dissertation  upon 
deportment,  homiletics,  or  a  speech,  upon  correct  con 
duct.  What  I  want  is  3*our  advice  as  to  the  course  I 
must  pursue  in  regard  to  the  case  between  Mr.  Parsons 
and  myself.  I  can  candidly  say,  that  I  am  quite 
favorabty  impressed  with  the  general  appearance  of 
the  }*oung  man.  He  is  certainty  handsome,  and  I  think 
him  quite  intelligent  as  well." 

"What  3*ou  want  to  draw  from  me,  Mar3T,  is,  I 
suppose,  ni3*  opinion  in  regard  to  the  ver}-  hasty 
proposal  he  has  submitted,  as  well,  perhaps,  as  my 


108  WHAT  NEXT? 

opinion  of  the  young  man  generally.  If  this  be  your 
desire,  I  can  assure  you  that  I  think  his  avowal  of  so 
earnest  an  attachment  upon  so  very  limited  acquaint 
ance,  was  certainly  premature.  The  pressing  of  his 
claims-,  under  such  circumstances,  I  interpret  as  an 
evidence  of  impulsive  weakness,  and  is  too  much  like  the 
case  of  Melnotte  under  the  guise  of  the  Prince  of  Como. 
Ardency,  my  dear  Mary,  in  incipient  love  affairs,  must 
not  be  mistaken  for  honesty.  Under  such  an  existing 
state  of  affairs  as  you  present,  I  think  any  true  and 
worth}-  young  girl  could  well  afford  to  resist  such 
impulsiveness  as  your  newly  discovered  Sir  Knight  has 
manifested.  In  his  sudden  onslaught,  hold  him  at 
bay,  and  at  least  show  him  you  have  a  heart  that  is  not 
only  worth  working  for,  but  worth  waiting  for  as  well. 
No  young  lady  should  think  of  such  a  thing  as  rushing 
into  the  confidence  of  a  young  man  upon  the  immature 
acquaintance  of  a  first,  second  or  third  meeting.  She, 
of  course,  should  be  polite,  and  exhibit  all  the  graces 
at  her  command.  In  queenhr  dignity,  she  should^ 
stand  aloof  from  any  show  of  proffered  familiarity.  If 
you  have  shown  that  you  have  received  a  heart  wound 
upon  your  second  meeting,  my  decision  would  be  that  you 
have  been  guilty  of  an  indiscretion.  Mark  what  I  say. 
You  may  have  received  such  a  wound,  but  to  show  the 
wound  to  him  who  did  the  wounding,  would  be  an  egregi 
ous  mistake.  Let  your  wooer  find  out  that  you  are  not 
so  easily  won,  and  upon  protestations  from  so  new  an 
acqaintance,  and  the  chances  are  that  his  new-born 
love  will  run  down  in  his  heart  as  rapidly  as  does  the 
mercury  in  the  thermometer  when  struck  by  a  Texas 
norther." 

"You  have,   in  part,   complied  with  my    request," 
said  the  younger  sister.     "My  interpretation  of  what 


WHAT  NEXT?  109 

you  have  spread  before  me  may  be  incorrect,  and  that 
I  may  fully  satisfy  myself  as  to  the  construction  I  have 
placed  upon  your  expressed  opinions,  I  would  like  to 
have  you  give  me  the  impressions  that  were  made 
upon  your  mind  by  the  young  man,  who  comes  to  us 
from  another  part  of  the  State.  I  think  you  told  me 
you  had  seen  him  in  the  city,  but  had  no  introduction 
to  him." 

"Well,  Mary,  justice  to  myself,  as  well  as  to  you, 
requires  that  I  should  be  strictly  honest  in  my  answer 
to  this  question.  I  knew  that  report  said  this  young 
cavalier  had  been  imported  into  our  country  for  the 
especial  purpose  of  laying  seige  to  the  heart,  and, 
through  that,  to  the  hand  of  my  younger  sister.  I 
became  at  once  interested  in  the  matter,  and  really  put 
myself  to  some  inconvenience,  that  I  might  catch  a 
glimpse  of  this  new  visitor.  I  preferred  to  see  the 
gentleman  at  a  distance,  and  my  impressions  would 
determine  the  question  of  my  seeking  to  know  more 
than  I  could  discern  from  an  outward  exhibit. 

"Pardon  me,  Mary.  Do  not  doubt  my  honesty. 
Impugn  not  my  motives.  I  was  not  pleased  with  your 
suitor.  Not  being  close  enough  to  him  as  he  stood 
with  his  uncle  in  the  store  of  Mr.  Cushman  to  discover 
the  exact  color  of  his  eyes,  I  nevertheless  made  a 
somewhat  rapid  survey  of  his  general  contour,  and, 
therefrom,  drew  my  own  conclusions." 

"Well,  your  admission  that  you  were  not  pleased, 
prepares  me  for  what  must  follow,  provided  your 
criticism  is  made  more  elaborate.  But,  sister,  do  not 
cut  short  your  criticism  for  fear  of  giving  me  offense.  I 
have  asked  for  an  opinion,  and  my  asking  shall  be 
your  fortress  against  the  receiving  of  one  unkind  look. 
Proceed,  I  am  ready  to  hear  all." 


110  WHAT  NEXT? 

"As  he,  whom  you  claim  to  be  an  admirer,  stood 
only  a  few  feet  from  me,  and  wholly  oblivious  to  the 
scrutinizing  glances  I  was  momentarily  casting  in  his 
direction,  I  saw,  as  I  think,  almost  enough  to  have 
drawn  his  picture,  had  I  been  but  an  amateur  artist." 

"Go  on,  sister."  said  Mary,  "you  may  not  be  a 
practical  limner,  but  you  can,  at  least,  give  me  a 
specimen  of  your  word  painting." 

"To  begin,"  said  Mrs.  Gaines,  "I  thought  the  young 
man  was  handsome  in  form  and  had  an  intelligent 
face." 

"Well,  well  ;  score  two  for  my  young  and  doubly 
complimented  young  friend,"  said  Mary. 

"Hold  your  eclat  in  subjection,  Maiy,  till  I  am 
through  with  my  picture.  You  have  asked  me  to 
draw  it  for  you,  and  I  do  not  intend  you  shall  go  into 
ecstasies  over  what  may  possibly  eventuate  in  being 
the  only  things  worthy  of  commendation  in  the  subject 
of  examination.  But,  to  proceed.  As  Mr.  Parsons 
stood,  bracing  himself  against  the  counter,  his  face 
immobile  and  quiesent,  I  really  thought  his  pose  would 
have  been  a  good  one,  from  before  which  to  draw  the 
curtain  of  a  camera.  His  dress  was  neat  and  well 
fitted,  but  seemed  just  a  little  off  style.  It  was  not 
strictly  bon-ton,  and  was  an  advertisement  of  the  back 
woods  rather  than  the  up-to-date  fashionable  country. 
I  would  do  him  justice.  While  therefore  what  I  have 
said  is  true,  there  was  nothing  especially  ungainly  in 
his  appearance,  nor  any  marks  of  slouch  about  him. 
With  equal  propriety  it  could  have  been  said,  that 
there  was  nothing  in  his  general  appearance  that 
would  have  attracted  the  attention  of  a  stranger.  As 
you  have  probably  noticed,  he  wears  no  jewelry  except 


WHAT  NEXT?  Ill 

an  antiquated  specimen  of  breastpin,  which,  if  an 
heir-loom,  ought  to  have  been  discarded  from  the 
shirt  front  of  his  grand-father  and  been  placed  among 
the  curios  of  the  distant  past.  The  shoes  he  wore  were 
not  the  kind  that  our  fashionable  young  men  buy,  and 
he  is  either  ahead  of  the  fashion  or  behind  it.  This -is 
a  score  against  him,  or  one  against  the  country  from 
which  he  hails." 

"And  are  these  all  the  objections  you  have  to  file 
against  the  handsome  visitor  of  my  friends."  said 
Mary. 

''Verily,  by  no  means,  sister.  This  young  man,  as 
I  am  led  to  believe,  is  out  on  a  still  hunt  for  a  wife. 
You  have  been  singled  out  as  the  one  he  is  to  capture. 
What  has  he  to  recommend  him  in  his  suit?  He  is 
nothing  but  the  teacher  of  a  common  country  school — 
a  position  which  has  been  filled  in  our  country,  during 
all  the  years  I  have  known,  by  none  but  Yankee 
pedagogues — a  position  that  promises  no  promotion, 
no  advancement  and  but  meager  pay." 

"But  because  he  is  a  teacher  now,  does  it  follow, 
per  necessity,  that  he  cannot  enter  a  field  more 
lucrative  ?  Does  it  follow  that,  like  Ixion,  he  is 
fastened  to  an  ever  revolving  wheel,  from  which  there 
is  no  escape?" 

"No,  my  dear  Mary,  I  think  escape  from  such  a 
profession,  such  a  life,  is  possible,  but  I  think  the 
cage  had  better  be  swept  and  left,  rather  than  that 
you  should  form  a  co-partnership  with  the  young  man, 
to  help  him  do  the  sweeping  and  leaving." 

"One  other  question  I  would  like  to  ask,"  said 
Mary,  "and,  with  asking  and  answering  of  that  query, 


112  WHAT  NEXT? 

I  think  we  can  move  an  adjournment  and  I  can  study, 
in  secret  and  silence,  the  various  phases  of  the  suhject 
we  have  been  considering." 

"My  question  is  this.  Could  I  not,  with  a  degree  of 
mental  reservation,  consent  to  give  an  affirmative 
answer  to  his  question,  with  the  distinct  understand 
ing  that  there  is  no  definiteness  of  time  to  be  yet 
considered?" 

"Most  assuredly  you  could,  sister.  And  if  the  con 
dition  of  your  own  estimation  of  the  young  pedagogue 
is  such  as  that  you  cannot  get  your  consent,  as  yet, 
to  discard  any  and  all  matrimonial  propositions  coming 
from  him,  your  suggestion  is  both  prudent  and  wise. 
It  is  prudent  because  you  would  then  have  ample  time 
to  make  your  look  before  you  leap.  It  would  be  wise 
because  such  a  course  might  save  you  from  incalculable 
sorrow." 

"I  thank  you  very  kindly  for  this  interview,"  said 
Mary.  "It  has  furnished  me  food  for  thought,  and  I 
hope  to  profit  thereby.  So  good-bye." 

Miss  Mary  Lawson  had  naturally  a  confiding  and 
unsuspecting  disposition.  In  one  respect,  however,  she 
had  been  unfortunate.  She  had  grown  up  under  the 
dominating  influence  of  an  older  sister.  The  power  of 
thinking  and  acting  for  herself  became  consequently 
enervated  and  dwarfed.  She  had  so  long  been 
accustomed  to  think  as  another  directed,  that,  even  in 
matters  of  the  greatest  moment  to  herself,  she  was 
cowardly,  undecided.  Poor  girl !  Had  she  been  left 
to  the  dictates  of  her  own  unsullied  conscience,  she 
would  doubtless  have  been  a  grander  woman,  and 
have  led  a  happier  life. 


WHAT  NEXT?  113 

When  young  Parsons  called  upon  Miss  Lawson  a 
few  days  after  the  colloquj7  had  transpired  between  her 
and  Mrs.  Gaines,  he  found  the  young  lady  so  greatly 
changed  in  her  demeanor  towards  him  as  to  excite  his 
curiosity  and  give  him  considerable  uneasiness.  Hosv 
to  account  for  the  change,  he,  of  course,  knew  not, 
and  became  almost  importunate  in  his  questioning 
with  regard  to  what  untoward  event  had  worked  to  his 
detriment.  To  all  questions  with  regard  to  what  had 
caused  such  a  change  "to  come  over  the  spirit  of  her 
dreams,"  she  was  evasive  or  reticent.  Having  no  light 
shed  upon  the  cause  of  the  noticable  transformation, 
and  seeming  to  be  cut  off  from  his  only  source  of 
information  in  regard  thereto,  he  stopped  his  inquiries. 
That  the  change  was  due  to  ill  health  he  knew  could 
not  be  true,  for  the  young  lady  on  making  her  appear 
ance,  in  health,  general  physical  appearance,  style  of 
attire,  and  exquisite  paraphernalia,  had  never  made  a 
better  display. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  the  richness  and 
beauty  of  Miss  Lawson's  costume  would  have 
attracted  his  special  attention  and  elicited  a  handsome 
compliment.  But,  in  this  instance,  his  eyes  were 
closed  to  the  observation  of  external  ornamentation, 
and  his  speech  dumb  to  the  uttering  of  one  syllabic 
compliment. 

In  more  of  a  cool,  calculating,  philosophic  style 
than  persuasive,  Parsons  approached  the  subject  which 
occupied  the  largest  share  of  his  attention  during  their 
last  meeting,  and  which  was  deferred  at  her  instance, 
until  she  could  lay  the  question  to  be  decided  before 
an  advisory  council,  consisting  of  but  one  counselor. 
Supposing  the  judgment  of  Mrs.  Gaines  to  have  been 

WHAT   NKXT? — X. 


114  WHAT  NEXT? 

rendered,  Parsons  did  not,  in  any  way,  seek  to  know 
what  her  decision,  as  given  to  her  sister  was.  He 
ignored  this  part  of  Miss  Lawson's  request,  and 
approached  her,  as  though  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
existence  of  a  Mrs.  Gaines.  He  informed  Miss  Mary  that 
he  had  laid  his  case  before  her  with  simple  candor — that 
without  any  ostentatious  display  or  the  waving  of 
pretentious  colors — without  any  deceptions  cant  or  the 
out-spreading  of  fraudulent  hypocrisy,  he  had  been 
simply  honest.  He  told  her  that  if  there  was  one  question 
concerning  himself,  his  hopes,  or  his  prospects  which 
she  desired  to  know,  to  turn  investigation's  lamp  in 
upon  him  and  the  truths  of  an  honest  soul  would  fly 
to  meet  her  questioning.  He  told  her  that  the  secret 
springs  of  his  own  heart  had  been  touched  by  her  attrac 
tions,  and  the  door  had  flown  wide  open,  and  she  bid 
to  come  in,  and  be  for  life,  its  one  and  sole  occupant. 
The  door,  he  told  her,  still  stood  ajar — that  heart  still 
craves  an  occupant.  "Will  you,"  said  he,  "allow  that 
door  to  be  closed  and  locked  with  sorrow's  key?" 

Miss  Lawson  scarcely  deigned  to  make  reply  to 
anything  Parsons  said.  She  seemed  to  sit  in  a  semi- 
dazed  condition,  and  while  her  clear  bright  eyes 
appeared  to  half  float  in  a  sea  of  tears,  under  the 
eloquent  and  passionate  appeal  of  the  young  teacher, 
her  tongue  could  be  coaxed  to  make  no  reply. 

During  this  interview  there  was  a  tension  so  strong 
engendered  by  the  very  singular  turn  that  things  had 
taken,  that  he  consequently  made  his  visit  unusually 
short.  Before  leaving,  however,  he  asked  Miss  Lawson 
if  she  would  be  willing  to  correspond  with  him ;  and, 
receiving  an  affirmative  answer,  he  took  her  hand 
gently  in  his;  and,  while  holding  it,  informed  her  that 


WHAT  NEXT?  115 

he  would  leave  for  home  the  next  day,  and  asked  her 
to  please  make  the  hand  he  was  holding,  write  him 
something  comforting,  the  very  first  time  it  essayed  to 
write  at  all.  He  pressed  the  hand  which  lay  still  in 
his — in  silence  bowed ;  and  was  gone. 

On  his  way  back  to  his  uncle's,  John  was  oppressed 
by  a  sense  of  weariness,  languor,  or  love-lornness.  The 
humid  summer  atmosphere  seemed  to  be  especially 
oppressive.  The  sun  appeared  to  glow  with  an 
unwonted  amount  of  heat,  and  even  his  high-mettled 
horse  indicated  his  appreciation  of  the  heat  by  the 
perspiration  which  flecked  his  body,  even  before  half 
the  distance  had  been  traveled. 

When  John  reached  his  uncle's,  to  keep  his  counte 
nance  from  turning  tell-tale,  and  having  outlined  in  it 
the  marks  of  mental  suffering  through  which  he  had 
so  recently  passed,  was  more  than  he  could  do. 
Observing  the  shadow  that  seemed  to  have  gathered 
about  the  nephew,  and  which  was  so  foreign  from 
anything  that  had  hitherto  been  observed,  the  uncle  at 
once  sought  to  discover  the  cause  of  his  trouble.  Upon 
questioning  him,  John  was  found  to  be  perfectly  trans 
parent  in  regard  to  what  his  uncle  wanted  to  know. 
With  perfect  freedom,  as  well  as  with  undisguised 
frankness  he  laid  before  his  uncle  a  full  and  complete 
recital  of  everything  which  had  taken  place  between 
Miss  Lawson  and  himself.  Every  meeting,  and  every 
thing  which  had  been  said  in  every  meeting  between 
them,  as  far  as  he  could  remember  what  had  taken 
place  was  laid  bare  before  his  uncle.  On  no  part  of 
what  had  occurred,  did  he  dwell,  with  more  seeming 
concern,  than  the  adventure  through  which  he  had  just 
passed.  He  seemed  not  only  to  desire  that  his  uncle 


116  WHAT  NEXT? 

should  be  a  confidant,  but  that  his  aunt  should  be 
taken  as  fully  into  his  confidence  as  his  uncle. 

After  John's  categorical,  and  voluntary  examination 
had  been  finished,  the  uncle  and  aunt  remained  silent 
some  minutes,  when  the  uncle  broke  the  silence  by 
saying,  that  "the  widowed  half-sister  of  Miss  Mary 
Lawson  was  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  trouble."  He 
then  informed  John  that  some  of  the  adverse  criticisms 
in  which  Mrs.  Gaines  had  indulged  concerning  him, 
with  her  gossipy  tongue,  had  reached  his  ears,  but 
which  he  thought  best  to  keep  to  himself.  But  he  believed 
the  time  had  now  come,  when  his  nephew  should  be 
fully  informed  as  to  what  he  might  expect  at  the  hands 
of  a  disappointed  and  dissatisfied  woman,  and  govern 
himself  accordingly. 

"John,"  said  the  uncle,  "this  Mrs.  Gaines  married  a 
man  who  was  fast,  and  fast  in  more  ways  than  one. 
He  dressed  extravagantly,  wore  costly  jewelry,  drove  a 
fane}'  team,  and  drank  mint  juleps.  He  married  his 
wife  thinking  she  was  an  heiress,  and  she  married  him 
thinking  he  had  money  to  burn.  Both  were  desperately 
disappointed.  Gaines,  her  husband,  died  a  bankrupt 
within  two  months  after  his  marriage,  and  his  widow 
is  living  upon  a  small  patrimony  which  she  received 
from  her  father's  estate.  She  is  a  woman  who  can 
make  a  bigger  show,  on  a  small  capital,  than  any 
woman  in  our  part  of  the  State.  Poor  but  proud,  she 
ought  to  have  profited  by  her  sad  experience ;  but  the 
gathering  of  bubbles  but  to  have  them  burst,  seems  to 
have  had  no  effect  in  toning  down  her  haughty  spirit. 
"This  is  the  woman,  John,  who  has  been  manipulating 
her  sister,  and  trying  to  induce  her  to  believe  that 
there  is  no  real  worth  in  anything  or  any  person  where 


WHAT  NEXT?  117 

in  there  is  not  found  the  glitter  of  fashion.  In  her 
eyes,  a  fool  with  money  and  fine  clothes  is  the  acme  of 
human  perfection,  while  the  philosopher  or  genius  who 
can  boast  of  a  surplus  of  neither,  is  unworthy  of  the 
smallest  consideration.  This  is  the  woman  who  claims 
that  you  have  not  enough  of  'the  get-up-and-go^ 
quality,'  as  the  horsemen  say — that  you  are  'too  plain 
and  prosy' — 'too  much  of  the  matter  of  fact  about 
you' — 'not  enough  poetry  in  your  nature' — 'not 
attractive  in  the  eyes  of  the  elite' — 'too  little  display.' ' 

"I  suppose  you  have  given  me  these  remarks  as 
quotations  from  some  of  her  criticising  speeches,  and  I 
think  they  go  a  long  ways  towards  explaining  some 
things  that  I  could  not  have  comprehended  otherwise. 
Let  me  assure  you  uncle,  if  the  young  lady  for  whom 
I  have  formed  my  first  attachment,  outside  of  my  own 
family  relatives,  expects  me  to  convert  myself  into  a 
sycophantic,  dawdling,  hanger-on,  in  the  wake  of 
money-loving  leaders  of  society,  simply  to  please  the 
corrupted  fancy  of  an  older  sister,  she  is  certainly  very 
much  mistaken.  If  she  expects  me  to  put  myself  in  the 
line  of  fawning  fops,  among  whom  her  sister  found  one 
who  brought  to  her  nothing  but  poverty,  the  young  lady 
will  be  under  the  necessity  of  finding  some  one  better 
suited  to  such  work  than  I  am.  No  woman  living  can, 
to  please  her,  induce  me  to  parade  under  false  colors. 
To  do  so  would  be  self-stultification,  and  subject  me  to 
the  condemnation  of  my  own  conscience. 

''We  parted,"  said  John,  "upon  good  terms,  but 
whether  the  terms  wore  uny  name  more  holy  than 
amity,  I  am  not  prepared  to  assert.  If  quiet  reserve 
can  be  interpreted  as  an  indication  of  heart  work,  I 
think,"  said  the  young  man  smiling,  "that  the  heart 


118  WHAT  NEXT? 

of  Miss  Mary  Lawson,  during  the  time  of  our  to-day's 
interview,  must  have  been  trying  to  solve  some  intri- 
•  cate  life  problem.  But,  with  all  her  abstraction,  she 
-•consented  to  enter  into  a  correspondence  with  me,  and 
I  may  be  able  to  present  to  her  eyes,  something  that 
will  awake  her  to  the  consideration  of  what  she  was 
-oblivious  to  to-day.  In  addition  to  this  agreement  she 
was  even  sufficiently  gracious,  to  promise  me  her 
picture,  when  I  made  her  my  next  visit." 

On  the  following  day  John  prepared  for  starting 
home — for  leave-taking  of  the  two  kind-hearted 
relatives  who  had  become  much  interested  in  his 
welfare.  As  especial  well-wishers  of  the  young  lady, 
to  whom  John  had  been  presented  and  recommended 
by  them,  they  felt  to  sincerely  regret  that  he  should 
leave  them  enveloped,  as  he  seemed  to  be,  in  a  cloud 
of  uncertainty.  The  motherly  attention — the  consid 
erate  kindness,  and  the  manifested  sympathy  of  his 
aunt,  had  woven  about  his  better  nature  a  bond,  that 
was  akin  to  that  which  made  up  the  sum  of  maternal 
good  wishes — wishes  such  as  followed  him  when  he 
stepped  from  beneath  the  home  roof  to  encounter  the 
trials  and  breast  the  storms  of  life  alone. 

With  tender  and  heart-felt  gratitude,  he  kissed  his 
aunt  adieu  as  she  stood  on  the  door-step,  and  then 
followed  the  lead  of  his  uncle  to  the  stile  where  black 
Bob  stood,  bridle  in  hand,  ready  to  assist  the  gallant 
visitor  to  mount  his  somewhat  restless  steed. 

As  the  uncle  still  held  the  hand  of  the  nephew, 
which  he  had  grasped  for  a  parting  farewell,  he  could 
not  refrain  from  expressing  his  regret  at  the  condition 
his  love  affairs  had  assumed,  nor  from  telling  him  that 
he  hoped  when  he  next  heard  from  him  he  would  learn 


WHAT  NEXT?  119 

that  the  clouds  had  cleared  away,  and  that  the  future 
might  seem  to  look  brighter  with  promise  of  better  days. 
He  encouraged  his  young  kinsman  to  be  brave  even  in  the 
midst  of  disappointment,  to  be  deliberate  in  the  face  of 
trial,  and  never  surrender  noble  resolves  because  of  one 
failure.  That  he  should  be  compelled  to  wear  away  a 
heart  less  buoyant,  and  a  mind  more  burdened  by 
anxiety  than  he  brought  with  him  when  he  came,  was 
to  be  deplored  ;  but  the  purposes  of  life  were  often 
thwarted,  that  something  better  might  be  the 
result.  ''Be  brave, dear  boy, "said  the  uncle. ""Farewell" 
said  each  in  chorus. 

Upon  reaching  home,  John  did  not  allow  very  much 
time  to  get  behind  him  until  he  had  indited  a  rather 
long,  plain  and  expressive  letter  to  Miss  Mar}7  Lawson. 
It  was  free  from  the  gush  and  over-wrought  sentimen- 
.tality  that  so  often  characterises  the  correspondence  of 
a  young  man  who  has  been  infatuated  with  the  charms 
of  a  woman  for  the  first  time.  Such  missives  are  often 
of  such  a  character  as  to  lead  the  over-credulous 
receiver  to  believe,  that,  since  Adam  left  Eden,  no 
such  case  of  love-lorn  despondency  had  ever  been 
brought  to  the  attention  of  mortal  man. 

To  such  a  category  of  letter  writers,  John  Parsons 
did  not  belong.  In  writing  to  Miss  Lawson  therefore, 
he  was  dispassionate  in  everj^  thing  which  he  penned. 
He  recapitulated  what  had  passed  between  them,  and, 
having  gone  over  the  whole  of  the  reasons  which  he 
•  had  previously  offered,  why  she  should  have  answered 
a  previously  propounded  and  important  question,  he 
further  supplemented  these  reasons  by  offering  others. 
For  his  sake,  as  well  as  for  the  quietude  which  a  direct 
answer  would  bring  to  her  mind,  he  insisted  that  an 
unequivocal  answer  should  be  given  him  in  her  reply. 


120  WHAT  NEXT? 

After  he  had  reached  home  Miss  Lawson  was  not  at 
all  tardy  in  inditing  and  sending  to  Parsons  a  nicely  writ 
ten  and  well  worded  answer  to  his  letter.  But  the  phrase 
ology  of  that  letter  was  such  as  to  give  it  the  appearance 
of  having  been  traced  by  a  cowardly  hand.  It  bore 
also  the  marks  of  a  half  concealed  indifference  to  the 
points  made  in  the  letter  she  was  answering — not  an 
expression  in  which  could  be  discovered  the  smallest 
moiety  of  affectionate  fervor — not  a  sentence  which 
could  be  interpreted  as  conveying  the  idea  of  any 
special  preference  for  the  party  to  whom  she  was 
writing.  The  answer  which  Parsons  had  so  earnestly 
requested  should  be  given  him  was  evasively  post 
poned  by  being  conditioned  upon  future  develop 
ments  which  he  knew  could  never  possibly  materialize. 

This  communication,  although  so  nicely  and 
adroitly  worded,  was  not  wholly  unsatisfactory  to 
Parsons,  but  was  a  new  character  of  enigma.  From 
what  he  had  seen  of  the  young  lady,  but  more  partic 
ularly  from  the  description  given  of  her  by  both  his 
uncle  and  his  aunt,  he  suspected  that  a  third  party 
was  figuring  clandestinely  in  the  case  wherein  he 
thought  himself,  and  the  young  lady  addressed,  were 
the  only  participants. 

In  his  second  letter  he  did  not,  of  course,  allude  to 
any  suspicion  that  had  taken  possession  of  his  mind. 
In  answering  her  first,  strange,  and  unsympathetic 
communication,  he  allowed  a  sufficiency  of  time  to 
elapse  to  create  some  suspicion  in  her  mind  that  her 
letter  proving  unsatisfactor}T  to  Mr.  Parsons,  he  had 
concluded  that  their  correspondence  need  not  be 
carried  any  further.  In  fact,  postponement  was  con 
tinued  until  the  young  lady,  becoming  solicitous 


WHAT  NEXT?  121 

about  the  matter,  had  gone  to  John's  uncle,  and,  by 
inquiry,  had  sought  to  learn  why  her  letter  had  not 
been  answered.  This  led  to  the  reception  of  a  letter 
from  his  uncle,  in  which  was  revealed  some 
important  facts  connected  with  the  nephew's  recent 
visit.  To  this  letter,  as  well  as  to  the  long  postponed 
answer  to  Miss  Lawson's  communication,  John  speedily 
forwarded  answers. 

If  the  explanations  and  re-explanations  that  followed 
the  writing  of  John's  second  letter  were  inserted  here, 
except  to  a  few  individuals  who  may  have  had  a  some 
what  similar  experience,  the  history ',would;be  uninterest 
ing.  Suffice  it  to  say  therefore  that  just  a  little  show  of 
indifference  in  this  case  worked  a  reform  in  the  style 
of  Miss  Lawson's  correspondence  with  Parsons  that 
set  even-thing  to  moving  harmonious^  between  him 
and  his  lady  correspondent. 

Only  a  short  time  after  John's  return  from  the  visit 
herein  recorded,  Mr.  Ellis  Watson,  a  trustee  of  a  school 
in  a  different  neighborhood,  approached  Parsons  and 
asked  him  if  he  considered  himself  engaged  to  teach 
for  the  approaching  school  year.  The  young  teacher 
answered  him  by  saying  that  while  there  was  no 
definite  or  special  arrangement  as  to  his  continuing  where 
he  had  been  teaching,  he  still  thought  there  was  a 
tacit  understanding  between  him  and  his  old  patrons 
that  he  would  continue  in  their  employ.  Mr.  Watson 
then  inquired  if,  with  a  considerable  increase  in  his 
salary,  he  would  entertain  a  proposition  to  teach  a 
school  in  his  locality. 

Being  especially  interested  in  the  cause  of  education 
generally,  John  had  previously  made  inquiry  into  the 
history  of  every  school  in  the  surrounding  country,  and 


122  WHAT  NEXT? 

had,  to  a  large  extent,  made  himself  acquainted  with 
the  characters  of  the  citizenship  and  the  special  en 
vironments  in  each  of  these  localities. 

It  so  happened  that  in  his  investigations  along  this 
line,  the  school  of  which  Mr.  Watson  was  a  trustee  and 
patron,  had  not  been  very  favorably  reported.  Its 
pupils  were  considered  unruh — its  patrons  dictatorial 
and  hard  to  please. 

With  this  much  of  the  generally  reported  reputation 
which  this  particular  school  had,  he  replied  to  Mr. 
Watson,  that  with  the  outlook  then  before  him,  he  did 
not  think  he  could  be  induced  to  consider  a  prop 
osition  from  them.  He  told  Mr.  Watson  that  an 
increase  in  salary  was,  to  him,  an  important  consider 
ation,  but  that  he  did  not  work  for  money  only. 

Mr.  Watson  seemed  somewhat  disappointed  with 
John's  answer,  and,  not  being  satisfied  with  what 
appeared  to  him  to  be  an  unsettled  conclusion,  started 
into  catechise  the  young  teacher. 

"Have  you  any  objection,  Mr.  Parsons,  to  changing 
your  location  as  teacher?" 

''There  are  some  objections  that  I  might  urge  against 
a  change  of  location,  Mr.  Watson,  but  1113*  reasons  for 
not  desiring  to  make  a  change  are  not  sufficiently 
cogent  to  bind  me  to  my  present  locality  at  any  great 
pecuniary  sacrifice.  I  am  greatly  attached  to  the  people 
for  whom  I  have  been  working.  I  think  they  are 
satisfied  with  my  efforts  to  further  the  education  of 
their  children.  Besides  this,  I  should  regret  to  sever 
the  ties  of  abiding  sympatl\y  and  friendship  which 
exist  between  me  and  the  pupils  I  have  been  teach- 
ing." 


WHAT  NEXT?  123 

"But  could  you  not  build  friendships  just  as  sacred 
and  ties  just  as  binding  in  another  locality  ?" 

"Perhaps  I  might,  Mr.  Watson,  but  I  would 
certainly  like  to  know  that  there  were  no  facts  that 
seemed  to  antagonize  the  attainment  of  such  results." 

"Do  you  think  there  would  be  any  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  }'our  establishing  yourself  in  the  good 
opinion  and  friendship  of  our  people  ?  Do  you  think 
it  would  be  difficult  to  ingratiate  yourself  into  the 
effection  and  good  will  of  our  children  and  our 
people?" 

"These  are  rather  delicate  questions,  Mr.  Watson. 
Success  would,  of  course,  largely  depend  in  these 
matters,  upon  the  kind  of  people  and  the  kind  of 
pupils  with  which  I  might  have  to  deal.  Experiment 
only  could  answer  your  question." 

"Well,  if  you  have  objections  to  our  neighborhood, 
our  people,  or  our  pupils,  if  you  will  name  the  objec 
tions  I  may  be  able  to  disabuse  your  mind,  and  set 
•ourselves  right  in  your  opinion." 

"The  objections  to  which  you  allude,  Mr.  Watson, 
have  already  been  filed'  by  outsiders,  and  I  hardly 
think  I,  a  stranger,  would  be  expected  to  know, 
from  personal  knowledge,  anything  in  regard  to  your 
citizenship  or  their  peculiarities.  I  can  say  to  you, 
however,  while  the  reputation  of  your  people  as  friends 
and  neighbors  is  good,  the  reputation  which  the 
patrons  of  your  school  have  is  that  they  are  fussy  and 
hard  to  please,  and  that  your  pupils  are  unruly  and 
hard  to  control." 

"The  allegations  of  which  you  speak,  I  think  are 
unjust.  The  unfavorable  repute,  under  which  you  say 


124  WHAT  NEXT? 

we  are  resting,  has  evidently  been  manufactured    by 
some  designing  and  disappointed  teacher." 

The  parties  to  this  colloquy  seemed  to  be  coming 
no  closer  together  as  to  the  understanding  of  Mr. 
Watson's  proposition.  Parsons  therefore  brought  the 
conversation  to  a  close,  by  a  direct  refusal  to  consider 
any  offer  from  the  delegated  trustee.  Under  the 
circumstances  he  thought  he  would  be  acting  in  bad 
faith  towards  his  old  employers,  to  even  debate  the 
question  of  making  a  change,  without  first  consulting 
them.  He  was  under  the  impression,  and  so  told  Mr. 
Watson,  that  his  former  emploj'es  would  be  unwilling 
to  have  him  leave  them,  for  any  reason,  except  to 
better  his  condition,  but  that  he  furthermore  believed 
thej'  were  sufficiently  magnanimous  to  make  a  sacrifice 
in  his  behalf. 

''At  some  future  time,  Mr.  Watson,  should  you  find 
yourself  in  need  of  a  teacher,  and  your  people  can 
make  it  to  my  advantage  to  accept  a  position  among 
you,  I  will  consider  favorably  a  proposition.  At 
present  I  cannot." 

With  the  coming  of  the  time  when  John  Parsons 
should  again  enter  upon  his  professional  duties,  he 
walked  into  his  old  harness,  and  a  down-east  Yankee 
was  installed  as  teacher  in  the  Watson  district. 

While  the  school  over  which  Parsons  presided  was 
run  smoothly  and  profitably,  there  was  a  new  and  self- 
imposed  duty  which  he  was  carmng  forward,  and  of 
which  he  was  almost  as  anxious  to  make  a  success,  as 
he  was  of  his  teaching.  Not  very  far  back  in  his 
history  an  arrangement  had  been  made  between  a  very 
handsome  young  lady  and  himself  to  send  out  monthly 
remembrances  to  each  other,  containing  tidings  of 


WHAT  NEXT?  125 

good  cheer.  These  missives  passed,  to  and  fro,  for 
nearly  five  months.  When  the  end  of  the  year  was 
coming  somewhat  close  to  hand,  John  decided  to  make 
his  uncle  and  aunt  another  visit.  Of  course  the  oppor 
tunity  of  seeing  Miss  Lawson  was  by  no  means  a 
secondary  consideration.  He  wrote  the  young  lady  in 
regard  to  his  proposed  visit,  and  informed  her  as  to  the 
time  he  would  probably  put  in  an  appearance. 

The  young  teacher  was  on  time,  as  advertised,  and 
upon  his  arrival  at  the  home  of  his  relatives,  he  was 
not  long  in  signifying  his  desire  to  visit  Miss  Lawson. 

The  morning  after  his  arrival,  the  weather  being 
exceedingly  crisp  and  cold,  John  ordered  his  horse,  and 
was  soon  on  his  way  to  Mrs.  Lawson's.  Reaching  there, 
Miss  Mary  Lawson  met  him  with  rather  more  cordiality 
than  she  had  ever  shown  him,  and  even  her  mother 
manifested  an  unwonted  interest  in  his  welfare.  All 
this  was  very  grateful  to  Parsons,  who,  from  the  set 
backs  he  had  received,  was  half-disposed  to  look  upon 
everything  with  suspicion. 

The  short  Christmas  holiday  was  pleasantly  spent  by 
the  young  visitor  in  a  general  round  of  pleasure  and 
delights.  Almost  every  evening  a  pleasant  entertain 
ment  or  a  storm-party  was  a  part  of  the  entire  holiday 
programme,  and  as  there  was  considerable  snow,  the 
young  people  made  good  use  of  it.  Sleighs,  drawn  by 
spirited  horses,  and  filled  with  joyous,  light-hearted 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  made  gladness  as  they  sped 
over  the  snow,  ring  out  on  the  night  air.  Beneath  the 
silvery  moon,  a  party  of  sleigh  riders,  keeping  time  to  the 
foot-falls  of  the  horses,  with  merry  songs  and  sleigh- 
bell  accompaniments,  as  on  they  all  went  to  some 
social  gathering,  was  enough  to  satisfy  any  one  who 


126  WHAT  NEXT? 

was    not    a  chronic    grumbler,  that,  in    losing    Eden, 
humanity  did  not  lose  all  the  happiness  that  Eden  had. 

Among  the  various  parties  who  became  contributors 
to  the  pleasant  holiday  enjoyments,  Mrs.  Lawson  was 
quite  liberal.  To  her  entertainment,  although  intended 
chiefly  for  the  young,  the  uncle  and  aunt  were  invited, 
and  an  assurance  accompanying  the  invitation  that  the 
occasion  was  a  merry-making  in  honor  of  their 
nephew. 

As  the  wheels  of  the  family  carriage  whistled  and 
screeched  through  the  snow  on  its  way  to  Mrs.  Lawsons, 
Parsons  wras  not  as  much  inclined  to  talk  as  usual. 
This  was  not  strange.  He  had  something  important 
to  him  which  was  being  revolved  in  his  mind.  He  was 
trying  to  divine  what  strange  wind  had  seemingly 
turned  the  tide  in  his  favor.  He  dared  not  put  any 
questions  to  his  uncle  which  would  indicate  that  doubt 
held  him  in  thrall,  and  hence  the  three  drew  the  robes 
more  closely  about  them  and  rode  on  in  silence,  while 
the  driver  without,  cracked  his  whip  and  urged  his 
team  over  the  snow. 

Arriving  at  the  home  of  the  widow  Lawson,  the 
Parsons'  part}7  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  a  large 
assembly  of  gay,  handsomely  dressed,  and  chattering 
young  folks.  A  stranger  in  the  community,  young 
Parsons  received  some  special  marks  of  attention 
during  the  evening,  and  did  not  appear  to  any  disad 
vantage.  While  the  young  teacher  did  not,  by  act  or 
word,  seek  to  leave  the  impression  that  he  was  present 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  see  Miss  Mary  Lawson, 
still,  during  the  evening,  he  sought  an  opportunity  to 
have  a  short  private  conference  with  the  young  lady, 
which  conference  was  wholly  unsatisfactory.  Before 


WHAT  NEXT?  127 

leaving,  however,  he  renewed  the  subject  of  the  corre 
spondence,  and  having  learned  that  she  did  not  care  to 
have  their  interchange  of  epistolary  friendship  discon 
tinued,  he  reminded  her  that  she  was  in  his  debt  to 
the  amount  of  a  letter,  and  told  her  to  name  the  time 
definitely  when  he  might  expect  an  answer  to  his  last. 

The  exhibit  of  a  strange  formality  seemed  to  take  hold 
of  Miss  Lawson  when  Parsons  told  her  he  would  leave 
for  home  the  next  day,  and,  in  the  midst  of  that  over 
shadowing  formality,  he  bade  her  adieu,  and  he  and 
his  relatives  left  the  assembly  and  started  home,  even 
while  the  festivities  of  the  evening  were  at  their  highest. 
It  would  not  be  at  all  difficult  to  divine  why  there  was 
this  apparent  hurrying  away  upon  the  part  of  young 
Parsons.  The  entertainment  had  been  prepared  osten 
sibly  in  his  honor,  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  one  of 
two  things  must  have  been  the  cause  of  the  before- 
time  departure.  Either  some  one  of  the  three  consti 
tuting  the  Parsons'  party  had  become  suddenly  ill  or 
something  had  occurred  to  dampen  the  delights  of 
one  of  this  trio.  Nobody  guessed  aloud,  but 
questions  were  asked,  but  not  answered. 

As  the  party  moved  homeward,  there  was,  for  a 
time,  a  kind  of  ominous  silence  maintained.  At  length 
John  Parsons  broke  that  silence.  What  he  said  was 
deliberately  said.  There  was  not  the  slightest  exhi 
bition  of  excitement  in  word  or  gesture  upon  his  part. 
He  assured  his  uncle  and  aunt  that  some  influence, 
more  potent  than  any  at  his  command,  was  operating 
at  cross-purposes  in  his  suit  for  the  esteem,  the  con 
fidence,  and  the  love  of  Miss  Lawson.  What  that  was, 
he  claimed  he  had  not  been  able  to  discover,  but  declared 
that  let  it  be  what  it  might,  it  not  only  caused  the 


128  WHAT  NEXT? 

path  of  true  love  to  be  rough,  but  that  insuperable 
obstructions  or  difficulties  were  found  piled  far  too 
frequent  in  his  love  travels.  He  declared,  however, 
that  no  man  who  went  down  into  the  slough  of 
despondency  because  he  could  "not  get  hold  of  the 
springs  that  moved  to  certain  kind  of  human  action, 
was  not  worthy  of  all  he  sought  to  own. 

In  the  midst  of  the  conversation  which  was  dashed 
with  a  few  firey  ejaculations  upon  the  part  of  Mr. 
Parsons,  Sr.,  the  carriage  halted  in  front  of  the  home 
gate.  Ebony  Bob  was  hard  by  and  opened  the  gate, 
and  as  the  carriage  was  slowly  driven  to  the  front, 
John  Parsons  could  not  help  feeling  that  either  of  the 
servants,  there  in  waiting,  wore  a  lighter  heart  than  he. 
They  are  slaves,  he  reasoned,  to  a  good  master,  while  I 
am  a  captive,  in  fetters  bound  by  ene  who  seems  to 
sport  in  half  delight  over  the  galling  of  the  chains 
which  I  wear.  "Shall  such  a  state  of  restless  anxiety  be 
prolonged,  or  shall  I  burst  the  shackels  and  dare  be 
free,"  he  half  audibly  murmured,  andwasonl}-  momen 
tarily  quieted  by  the  demand  upon  his  gallantry  in 
handing  his  aunt  from  the  carriage. 

The  cozy  warm  room,  to  which  John  retired,  invited 
sleep  and  pleasant  rellections.  The  young  man,  how 
ever,  was  really  in  no  condition  for  either.  He  seated 
himself  in  an  easy  chair,  and  entered  into  a  full 
recapitulation  of  everything  that  had  occurred  since 
his  first  meeting  with  Miss  Lawson.  In  his  self- 
examination,  he  found  nothing  for  which  to  chide 
himself,  except  that  he  had  perhaps  placed  too  much 
reliance  in  the  demeanor  of  the  young  lady  whose 
apparent  superior  qualities  had  made  him  her  captive. 
Long  he  pondered  over  what  he  had  done,  in  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  129 

case  he  had  under  consideration,  and  then  revolved 
what  course  he  would  pursue  in  the  future.  That 
the  young  man  was  in  mental  trouble  was  palpa 
bly  obvious  ;  but  the  night  waned  and  John  retired, 
only  to  wrestle  with  troubled  dreams  till  the  break  of 
day. 

With  the  coming  of  the  morning  the  young  man  was 
up  and  having  partaken  of  breakfast,  ordered  his  horse, 
bade  his  relatives  an  affectionate  farewell,  and 
started  for  home.  As  he  rode  through  the  crisp  morn 
ing  air,  the  question,  "What  Next?"  found  its  way  to 
his  lips. 

WHAT  NEXT? — 9. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

'•Thou  hast  stepped  in  between  me  find  my  hopes, 
And  ravished  from  me  all  my  soul  held  dear." 

• — Howe. 

"The  hills  to  the  thunder-peal  replied; 
The  lightning  burst  on  Its  fearful  way, 
While  the  heavens  were  lit  in  its  red  array." 

—Clark. 

¥¥/(TIEX  young  Parsons  reached  home,  he  found 
himself  the  possessor  of  a  larger  share  of 
Jjl  v.  anxiety  than  he  had  ever  before  been  known 
to  wear — that  he  had  imported  riddles  whose 
meaning  he  was  not  able  to  unravel — problems  whose 
depths  he  was  not  able  to  fathom,  and  intricacies 
whose  mystery  he  could  not  unwind.  Study  what  was 
presented  in  these,  as  he  might,  and  he  came  away 
from  his  study  as  ignorant  as  when  he  began.  There 
was  no  key  which  he  possessed,  or  which  he  could  get, 
that  would  give  aid  to  the  solution  of  the  problematic 
difficulties  which  had  produced  in  him  so  large  a  share 
of  anxiety 

To  rid  himself  of  any  and  everything  which  might 
militate  against  his  success  in  prosecuting  the  work 
of  the  last  half  of  the  regular  school  year,  he  regarded 
as  especially  imperative.  Resolving,  therefore,  to 
make  duty  to  those  whom  he  was  serving  paramount 
to  every  other  consideration,  he  entered  upon  his 
professional  duties  with  new  resolves,  and  fresh  hopes 
of  making  his  last  half  year's  work  a  better  work  than 
anything  he  had  yet  accomplished.  He  reasoned  that 
becoming  completely  engrossed  in  his  business  would 
lead  to  a  subsidence  of  any  perplexing  questions  which 
might  have  been  harassing  his  mind.  Besides,  he 


WHAT  NEXT?  131 

ultimately  concluded  that  through  the  correspondence 
which,  as  yet,  was  understood  to  have  been  agreed 
upon  should  be  continued,  he  could  have,  at  least, 
some  light  shed  upon  what  was  mysteriously  strange. 

Bolstered  by  these  resolutions  and  self-satisfying 
arguments,  John  Parsons  showed  a  larger  share  of 
diligence  and  interested  perseverance  than  had  been 
his  former  wont.  He  pushed  his  work  with  an  energy 
that  attracted  the  attention  and  called  out  the  com 
ments  of  both  pupils  and  patrons.  Alas  !  none  knew 
the  spur  that  goaded  the  young  teacher  to  such  extra 
exertion. 

Parsons  carried  no  troubled  expression  of  count 
enance  into  the  presence  of  his  school.  He  was  too 
brave,  and  too  much  of  a  philosopher  for  that.  His  was  a 
secret  which  he  did  not  propose  to  reveal,  and  he  knew 
young  63'es  were  quick  in  making  divinations. 

By  and  by  the  time  came  for  the  reception  of  the 
promised  letter.  It  came  not,  and  the  young  wooer 
grew  impatient.  He  waited  a  week  beyond  the  time 
promised,  and  the  post-office  was  visited  daily,  but  in 
vain.  No  letter  came. 

The  usually  courageous  and  resolute  nature  of  the 
young  teacher  was,  in  this  instance,  put  to  an  exceed 
ingly  severe  test.  To  have  his  countenance  wear  an 
unperturbed  expression  in  the  midst  of  such  an  aggra 
vating  disappointment  taxed  the  heroic  in  the  young 
man's  nature  to  the  fullest  extent.  But,  trying  as  it 
was,  he  proved  himself  equal  to  the  emergency,  and 
still  pushed  forward  in  the  discharge  of  duty  with  just 
as  much  equanimity  of  temper  as  though  the  flowers 
of  hope  and  promise  were  growing  in  rich  and  contin 
uous  beauty  in  the  path  through  which  he  traveled. 


132  WHAT  NEXT? 

Another  week  passed  and  yet  no  Letter  came  ta 
quiet  the  anxiety  of  John  Parsons.  Jsot  satisfied  to 
remain  in  a  condition  of  wearing  suspense,  he  wrote  to 
his  cousin,  Miss  Bertha  Butler,  a  favorite  of  the  family 
whom  he  had  recently  visited,  and  who  was  also  a 
friend  of  Miss  Lawson.  He  requested  her  to  inquire 
of  her  friend  Miss  Lawson  why  an  answer  to  a  letter  he 
had  so  long  waited  for  had  not  been  sent  him.  He 
had  no  hesitancy  whatever  in  making  the  request. 
The  position  she  was  in,  being  a  relative  of  the 
Parsons  and  a  close  friend  of  Miss  Lawson,  it  could 
hardly  have  been  expected  that  she  was  unacquainted 
with  what,  was,  in  part  at  least,  the  condition  of  affairs 
as  between  the  young  lady  and  the  party  making  the 
request. 

In  order  that  the  request  of  her  cousin  might  receive 
speedy  attention,  Miss  Butler  at  once  sought  to  get 
from  Miss  Lawson  the  reason  for  the  long  delay  in 
answering  her  cousin  John's  letter.  In  reply  to  Miss 
Butler's  inquiry,  Miss  Lawson  stated  that  she  did  not 
intend  to  answer  the  letter.  Miss  Butler  at  once  wrote 
her  cousin  John  the  result  of  her  inquiry,  and  sup 
plemented  that  part  of  her  reply  by  a  rather  severe 
criticism  upon  the  way  the  young  lady  had  acted. 

When  Parson  received  Miss  Bertha's  answer  to  his 
request,  he,  of  course,  was  somewhat  surprised,  but,  by 
no  means  as  much  discomfitted  as  many  others  would 
have  been  under  similar  circumstances.  His  recent  visit, 
with  its  attendant  adventures  had  partially  prepared  him 
for  almost  any  thing  that  might  come,  as  the  result  of 
Miss  Butler's  investigation.  The  part  of  his  cousin's 
reply  that  gave  him  the  only  real  reason  for  surprise 
was,  that  Miss  Lawson  should  have  made  no  apology, 
nor  presented  a  motive  for  her  strange  conduct. 


WHAT  NEXT?  133 

So  Miss  Lawson  declines  to  continue  our  corres 
pondence,  thought  John,  and  has  so  expressed  her 
determination  without  offering  any  explanation  for  so 
concluding. 

With  the  presumption  that  this  was  all  for  the  best, 
so  far  as  the  results  impinged  upon  him,  John  resolved 
to  write  one  more  letter  to  Miss  Lawson  as  a  finality, 
which  would  ring  the  curtains  down  upon  what  he 
considered  a  badly  played  farce.  Of  all  the  characters 
in  the  rendition  of  the  ridiculous  comedy  which  had 
now  closed,  he  considered  himself  by  far  the  poorest 
and  most  imcompetent  actor.  The  young  lady  in  the 
role  he  thought,  had  come  through  rather  brilliantly, 
especially  in  her  last  hit,  wherein  she  ignored  the 
obligations  she  was  under  by  a  promise  to  write. 
Whether  this  little  dodge  from  the  demands  of  truth 
would  ever  be  accounted  for,  John  cared  not.  He 
concluded,  however,  that  justice  demanded  something 
further  from  his  pen  by  way  of  explanation  to  Miss 
Lawson,  and  he  accordingly  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  her  and  sent  it,  together  with  every  written  communi 
cation  he  had  ever  received  from  her,  to  Miss  Bertha 
Butler,  with  especial  instruction  to  deliver  them  in 
person  to  her. 

Newton,  Ky.,  April  4th,  184-. 
Miss  Mary  Lawson,  Winona,  Ky.: 

Miss  MARY: — The  reception  of  this  letter,  which  will 
be  handed  you,  through  the  favor  of  our  mutual  friend 
— Miss  Bertha  Butler — will  doubtless  be  a  surprise  to 
you.  But,  let  me  assure  you  it  cannot  be  more  of  a 
surprise  to  you,  than  was  your  curt  reply  to  the  inter 
rogator}'  of  this  same  friend,  who  asked  you  why  the 
promised  answer  to  her  cousin's,  then  almost  anti 
quated  letter,  had  not  been  sent  him.  I  say  curt 


134  WHAT  NEXT? 

answer,  for  such  it  surely  seemed.     Namely,    "That  it 
had  not  been  answered,  and  never  would  be." 

That  you  had  a  perfect  right  to  make  her  such 
answer,  I  do  not,  for  one  moment  question.  I  even 
admit  that  you  had  a  perfect  right  to  indicate  to  my 
cousin  that  you  were  tired  of  our  correspondence.  Xay 
more.  Although  I  knew  that  being  tired  of  the, 
correspondence,  necessarily  carried  with  it  the  idea  of 
being  tired  of  the  correspondent,  I  did  not  feel  that 
your  independence,  in  this  particular,  should  be 
abridged.  That  you  did  not  assign  any  reason  for 
your  change  of  promised  purpose,  is  a  matter  with 
which  I  have  nothing  to  do. 

There  is  one  feature  of  our  communications,  both 
verbal  and  written,  which  I  now  most  sincerely  regret 
should  have  existed.  I  \yas  entirely  too  sanguine.  I 
interpreted  ever}7  smile  you  bestowed  upon  your  ardent 
boyish  admirer  as  an  evidence  of  attachment.  Oh ! 
how  very  simple  it  was,  that  I  should  ever  become 
enslaved  by  what  proved  to  be  an  empty  exhibit, 
without  either  substance  or  soul — how  very  puerile  that 
I  should  have  been  so  suddenly  decoyed  by  a  mere 
Will  o'  The  Wisp,  under  the  guise  of  personal  beauty 
— how  ignorant  was  I,  not  to  discover  the  gauz}r  integu 
ments  that  hung  about  the  misleading  ignis-fatuus — a 
woman's  eyes. 

It  is  passed.  I  have  no  wretchedness  to  deplore. 
My  eyes  have  been  opened.  I  feel  that  the  lesson  I 
have  learned  is  unmixed  with  any  bitterness — that  my 
advancement  in  the  knowledge  of  how  to  weigh  and 
understand  human  motives  has  been  greatly  enhanced. 
You  may  not  have  intended  to  make  of  yourself, 
during  our  comparatively  short  acquaintance,  so  valua 
ble  a  teacher,  but  I  shall  certainly  profit  by  your 
instruction. 

Miss  Bertha  Butler  will  not  only  be  the  bearer  of 
this  letter  to  you,  but  she  will  also  hand  you  the 
bundle  of  letters,  which  is  the  aggregate  of  your  part 
of  our  correspondence.  Before  starting  them  I  read 
carefully  and  deliberately  every  word  contained  in 


WHAT  NEXT?  135 

every  letter.  I  am  free  to  confess  that  the  last  reading 
to  which  I  shall  ever  subject  them,  has  been  to  me  a 
revelation.  But  enough.  They  were  mine.  Now  they 
are  yours. 

The  daguerreotype  I  have  of  you,  I  presume  you 
will  not  object  to  my  retaining.  You  will  remember 
that  I  asked  that  you  give  the  artist  a  sitting  for  my 
benefit,  and  consenting,  I  paid  the  artist  for  the  picture 
and  its  case.  According  to  no  law.  social,  legal  or 
moral,  do  I  think  I  am  wronging  3'ou  by  the  reten 
tion  of  what  I  consider  my  own.  However,  if  you 
think  different,  and  will  make  the  demand  for  it  in 
writing,  it  will  be  forwarded  to  you  through  the  same 
source  as  were  the  letters. 

I  have  no  desire  to  retain  the  picture  save  as  a 
souvenir,  upon  the  face  of  which,  as  often  as  I  look, 
the  quiet,  placid,  handsome  face  will  plead  with  me  to 
be  more  wary  as  to  where  I  bestow  my  attachments  in 
the  future.  This  picture  is  all  I  shall  have  left  of  you 
now,  for  to  your  real  self,  in  no  spirit  of  pining  or 
mournful  regret,  I  now  pen  my 

Farewell  forever, 

JOHN  PARSONS. 

About  the  time  that  the  session  of  John's  school  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  about  a  month  from  the  time 
that  John  had  written  and  sent  his  farewell  letter  to 
Miss  Lawson,  he  received  a  communication  from  Miss 
Butler — the  lady  who  had  been  deputized  to  look  into 
the  matter  of  the  missing  letter.  She  informed  her 
cousin  that  a  great  and  grievous  mistake  had  been 
made  in  regard  to  the  answer  which  Miss  Lawson  had 
made  to  her  about  the  promised  letter,  and  which 
answer  had  been  transmitted  to  him.  Bertha  censured 
herself  more  than  any  one  else,  and  declared  that 
but  for  the  fact  of  her  being  piqued  at  the  answer  Mary 
Lawson  had  given  to  her  question,  no  such  mishap 


136  WHAT  NEXT? 

would  have  occurred.  Miss  Lawson  stoutly  maintained 
;that  the  answer  she  had  made,  was  only  made  in  jest, 
:and  that  she  had  no  thought  of  Bertha  Butler's  going 
:in  a  jiffy,  and  penning  her  answer  to  her  cousin.  She 
•acknowledged  she  had  been  negligent  in  not  complying 
with  her  promise,  but  had  no  thought  of  that  negli 
gence  getting  her  into  trouble.  In  her  explanation  to 
Miss  Butler  of  her  failure  to  write,  as  reported  by  that 
.young  lady,  the  flimsy  pretext  was  resorted  to  of  claim 
ing  that  in  the  constant  round  of  visiting  and  pleasure- 
seeking,  she  had  not  found  time  to  write.  On  the 
presumption  that  a  poor  excuse  was  better  than  none,  I 
suppose,  Miss  Lawson  had  manufactured  this  apology 
and  had  forwarded  the  same  through  Miss  Butler,  who 
implored  pardon  for  the  part  she  had  played  in  creating 
an  alienation  between  two  young  people,  both  of  whom 
she  loved,  and  she  importuned  John  to  condone  the  act 
of  her  friend  Mary  Lawson.  A  reply  was  at  once 
forwarded  to  his  cousin  and  in  it,  it  was  stated  that 
what  he  had  done  could  not  be  recalled — that  the  steps 
he  had  taken  could  not  be  retraced.  He  was  frank  to 
confess,  he  stated,  that  her  fatal  letter  had  set  the  seal 
upon  his  resolutions,  but  that  there  could  be  no  appeal 
taken  upon  his  decision.  He  told  her  that  through 
weeks  of  painful  anxiety,  he  had  bourne  up  under 
chagrin  and  disappointment,  but  when  her  letter  came 
he  felt  his  hopes  had  been  sacrificed,  and  their  blighted 
and  charred  remains  were  left  to  smoulder  and  die 
upon  the  altar  of  his  own  heart. 

John  was  even  ready  to  say  to  his  cousin  that  no 
apology  was  due  from  her  to  any  one.  With  the  light 
she  had  before  her,  her  act  could  be  considered  as  none 
other  than  honest,  and  performed  in  good  faith.  That 


WHAT  NEXT?  137 

her  interest  in  him,  he  told  her,  should  have  spurred 
her  to  ready  action,  must  be  placed  to  the  credit  of 
her  cousinly  devotion. 

Upon  the  reception  this  letter,  John  studied  the 
matter  over  deliberately.  He  did  not  want  to  do 
anything  that  would  compromise  his  dignity  as 
a  man.  He  did  not  want  to  leave  anything  upon  his 
conscience  that  would  wake  the  fires  of  remorse.  But, 
study  as  he  might,  the  determination  became  inten 
sified  to  leave  the  matter  where  it  was.  What  has 
been  broken  in  this  instance,  he  reasoned,  can  not  be 
mended.  There  is  no  balm  of  Gilead  to  heal  bruises 
such  as  mine — there  is  no  priestess  to  fan  to  life  the 
fire  of  devotional  attachment  which  has  burned  itself 
out  from  neglect,  upon  the  altar  before  which  Mary 
Lawson  once  officiated. 

Young,  ardent  and  enthusiastic  in  his  first  love  affair, 
his  condition,  in  this  particular  part  of  his  history, 
•can  better  be  imagined  than  described.  How,  like  a 
tyro  in  heart  trouble,  did  young  Parsons  appear  as  he 
implored  Miss  Lawson  to  bring  him  some  relief  for  a 
wound  which  she  had  inflicted  !  This  was  the  first 
•outburst  of  passionate  love  which  had  ever  known  a 
place  in  his  soul.  He  had,  as  yet,  learned  no  lesson 
in  deception.  Integrity  and  honor  had  been  commen 
surate  with  his  young  life. 

The  love  which  John  Parsons  had  had  awakened  in 
his  soul  for  Miss  Lawson  was  no  lambent  flame  that 
must  needs  be  tended  as  a  thing  of  uncertain  existence. 
It  was  turbulent,  aggressive,  and  would  have  often 
overflowed  and  half-unnerved  its  possessor  but  for  the 
fact  that  his  innate  prudence  held  it  in  check.  Such 
devotion  is  not  a  thing  to  be  petted  and  humored  lest 


138  WHAT  NEXT? 

it  grow  restive  and  fret  itself  to  death.  It  is  the 
consuming,  indescribable,  indefinable  something  that 
lays  siege  to  the  human  heart  longingly,  and 
sometimes  piteously  asks  for  help. 

The  biggest  trouble  which  John  had  to  surmount 
in  deciding  upon  a  course  of  action  in  regard  to  the 
case  of  Miss  Lawson,  was  that  the  farewell  to  her  was 
prematurely  written.  He  wanted  to  be  just  to  her,  and 
honest  with  himself.  With  a  view  to  the  settlement 
of  this  question  in  his  own  mind,  he  examined  and 
re-examined  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  the 
affair,  and  the  oftener  he  examined  it  the  more  readily 
the  same  conclusion  was  reached.  By  and  by  the 
whole  thing  was  labled  "A  mistake ,"  and  hid  away 
in  one  of  the  cloisters  of  memory's  sacred  chambers, 
never  more  to  be  subjected  to  criticism  or  to  stir  up 
the  pulsations  of  a  deep  regret. 

Mistakes  are  not  alwa3Ts  disastrous.  The}'  some 
times  become  the  refining  fire  through  which,  material 
when  passed,  has  its  imperfections  eliminated  when  it 
comes  forth  purified  and  is  worth  more  in  the  market 
where  estimates  are  placed  upon  an  improved  man 
hood. 

Such  an  effect  was  true  in  the  case  of  John  Parsons. 
He  was  no  less  honest,  but  was  shorn  of  his  overweening 
credulty.  He  was  no  less  dignified  in  his  general 
bearing,  but  his  dignity  was  not  so  completely  wedded 
to  timidity.  He  was  no  less  faultless  but  was  more 
charitable  towards  the  faults  of  others,  and  when  his 
wounds  had  all  scarred  over,  he  most  devoutlj*  prayed 
that  when  any  specimen,  fair  and  fascinating,  of  Eve's 
decendants,  ever  employed  one  of  the  progeny  of 
Mercury  to  drag  him  into  trouble  by  shooting  in  his 


WHAT  NEXT?  139 

direction,  that  the  object  of  his  devotion  might  not 
have  a  widowed  sister  to  substitute  as  her  advisor. 

Only  a  few  days  before  the  close  of  John's  annual 
term,  Mr.  Eli  Watson  again  made  application  to 
Parsons  to  accept  a  position  as  teacher  for  his  neigh 
borhood.  As  an  inducement,  Watson  offered  him  a 
stipulated  salary  of  much  higher  figures  than  he  had, 
so  far,  been  receiving.  John  considered  the  proposi 
tion  but  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  told  Watson 
that  he  would  accept  his  offer. 

Arrangements  were  then  made  whereby  John  was  to 
visit  the  Yankee's  school  on  the  afternoon  of  its  final 
close.  This  proposition  was  advanced  by  Mr.  Watson, 
who  seemed  to  think  it  would  be  well  for  the  pupils  to 
become  acquainted  with  their  prospective  or  duly 
elected  new  teacher.  This  arrangement  did  not 
conflict  with  any  of  John's  purposes,  inasmuch  as  his 
session  would  not  close  for  one  week  after  the 
close  of  the  school  to  be  visited. 

In  harmony  with  this  arrangement,  on  Friday,  which 
was  the  day  designated  as  the  time  upon  which  John 
Parsons'  visit  was  to  be  made  to  the  Watson  School, 
he  discontinued  his  wrork  at  noon,  and,  mounting  his 
horse,  was  soon  speeding  his  way  to  visit  a  school  which 
was  presided  over  by  a  .  Yankee  teacher,  but  who  was 
to  be  superseded  by  a  Kentuckian  to  the  manor  born. 

While  Parsons  was  yet  quite  a  number  of  miles 
away  from  his  destination,  the  heralding  thunder, 
muttered  ominously  in  the  west  and  the  gleaming 
lightning,  as  the  avant  coureur,  betokened  the  coming 
of  the  storm. 

Admonished  by  these  signals,  John  spurred  his 
spirited  young  horse  to  a  very  high  rate  of  speed.  As 


140  WHAT  NEXT? 

he  reached  the  crest  of  the  hill  overlooking  the  valley 
in  which  the  school-house  to  be  visited  was  located,  he 
saw  he  was  between  a  quarter  and  a  half  mile  from  the 
school-building.  From  outward  indications  he  was  at 
once  aware  that  the  race  would  be  a  stubborn-one  to 
reach  shelter  before  the  storm  broke  upon  him.  The 
wind  was  blowing  as  though  old  Boreas  had  turned 
his  full  force  loose,  and  Parsons  was  in  a  John  Gilpin 
race  for  a  place  of  safety.  It  was  well  that  Parsons' 
horse  came  of  good  running  stock,  and  was,  on  this 
occasion,  not  disposed  to  go  back  on  his  pedigree. 
For  no  sooner  had  he  reached  the  stiles  in  front 
of  the  school-house,  than  did  he,  throwing  the  reins 
of  his  bridle  over  a  post,  jump  from  his  horse,  ungird  his 
saddle,  jerk  it  from  his  horse  and  make  a  hippodrome 
race  for  the  school-room  door.  This  he  suddenly 
pushed  open  and  jumped  inside,  saddle  in  hand. 

The  confusion  within  was  terrible.  A  panic  had 
seized  the  pupils,  and  they  were  manifesting  their  fright 
in  various  ways.  It  was  evident  that  order,  under  such 
circumstances,  was  not  to  be  expected.  Some  of  the 
pupils,  with  pallid  faces,  were  wringing  their  hands  in 
very  terror.  Some  who  were  more  courageous  than 
others  were  watching  through  the  windows  the 
elemental  strife  of  the  raging  storm.  Others  more 
timid  were  crouched  down  beneath  the  benches  with 
faces  hidden  in  their  hands. 

Parsons  was  not  superstitious,  but  despite  his 
reasoning,  he  could  not  down  the  thought  that  there 
must  be  something  ominous,  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  introduced  to  the  field  of  his  future  labor  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  raging  storm.  He  naturally  instituted 
a  comparison  between  the  turbulence  of  the  in-door 


WHAT  NEXT?  141 

scene  about  him,  and  the  peaceful,  quiet,  sunlit 
autumn  morning,  when  he  first  stood  in  the  presence 
of  seven  sweet-faced  little  girls  as  his  quota  of  pupils. 
"Why  have  I  been  confronted,"  said  he  mentally, 
"with  a  towering  storm,  as  an  introductory  symphony 
to  this  new  arena  ?  Is  this  a  portent  of  evil  ?  God 
grant  that  as  I  outrode  the  storm  this  afternoon,  I  may 
in  the  future  be  able  to  outride  and  over-ride  every 
trial,  every  tempation,  and  every  evil  that  may  blow 
its  foul  breath  in  my  face." 

By  and  by  the  storm  abated — the  clouds  rolled  into 
the  far  away — the  winds  stilled  into  the  soft  cadence  of 
a  summer  zephyr  song.  Anon  the  muttering  thunder, 
in  its  farewell  reverberations,  was  ultimately  lost 
beyond  the  distant  hills,  and  the  sun  came  out  beauti 
ful  and  bright,  lighting  up  the  world  with  new  glory. 

Quiet  having  been  restored  among  the  pupils,  John 
introduced  himself  to  the  official  incumbent,  and 
informed  him  that  he  had  been  regularly  employed  to 
take  charge  of  the  school  for  the  coming  session. 
John,  in  turn,  was  then  introduced  to  the  pupils,  and 
they  were  informed  that  he  was  the  teacher  who  would 
take  charge  of  the  school  the  following  September,  and 
under  whose  management  the  school  would  be  con 
ducted. 

After  this  introduction,  John  found  that  so  much 
time  had  been  consumed  by  the  passing  of  the  storm, 
that  the  hour  for  dismissal  was  well  nigh  at  hand,  and  he 
asked  the  privilege  of  saying  a  few  words  to  the  pupils 
before  they  dispersed.  This  being  granted,  John  made 
a  few  well-timed  remarks,  to  which  all  listened  with 
attention  and  apparent  interest.  He  then  observed 
that  when  they  had  been  dismissed,  he  desired  that  each 


142  WHAT  NEXT? 

of  them  should  come  forward  and  give  him  his  or  her 
name,  together  with  a  hand  of  welcome.  As  each  one 
complied  with  this  request,  John  held  the  extended 
hand  long  enough  to  make  a  little,  pleasant  and 
encouraging  speech. 

This  brief  episode  in  the  history  of  the  young 
teacher,  was  a  grand  advertisement  for  him,  as  the 
man  who  was  soon  to  become  the  incumbent  of  an  office 
in  which  these  children  were  to  be  the  chief  workers. 

When  all  had  scattered,  and  were  making  the  welkin 
ring  with  their  joyous  shouts,  mounting  his  horse  John 
was  soon  beyond  the  sight  of  their  youthful  gambol- 
ings,  and  out  of  the  hearing  of  their  mirthful 
exultation. 

To  secure  a  boarding-house  was  not  difficult,  as  Mr. 
Watson,  when  applied  to,  readily  consented  to  take 
the  young  man  into  his  family.  The  Watson  residence 
was  about  a  mile  from  the  school  house,  but  John  did 
not  consider  the  distance  objectionable,  as  he  thought 
exercise  indispensable  to  one  who  led  a  sedentary  life, 
and  to  walk  that  distance  twice  daily,  he  thought 
would  be  beneficial  to  him. 

Just  a  short  time  before  the  opening  of  John's 
school,  he  received  a  letter  from  his  cousin  Bertha 
Butler,  in  which  the  statement  was  made  that  her 
friend  Miss  Lawson,  with  whom  she  had  recently  had  a 
lengthy  conversation,  had  unfolded  to  her  more  of  the 
grief  and  disquietude  resulting  from  the  unfortunate 
affair  of  the  letter,  than  she  imagined  the  young  lady 
had  ever  experienced.  Miss  Butler  then  again  pre 
sented  her  side  of  the  trouble,  and  dwelt  at  length 
upon  the  sorrow  she  had  brought  upon  her  friend  Mary 
because  of  one  inadvertent  and  hasty  act. 


WHAT  NEXT?  143 

"Canyounot,  my  dear  cousin,"  said  Bertha,  "condone 
an  act  that  was  wholly  unintentional?  I  cannot  think  you 
are  hard  hearted.  There  must  be  enough  of  noble 
generosity  in  your  nature  to  bid  you  bow  to  the  plead 
ings  which  I  lift  with  deep  and  he?rt-felt  anxiety 
because  of  the  part  I  played  in  the  unfortunate  affair. 
I  want  to  be  forgiven,  not  by  you,  for  you  have  already 
indicated  that  I  have  lost  none  of  the  esteem  which 
you  entertained  for  me.  But  I  want  to  be  forgiven  of 
myself  for  my  indiscretion  and  my  want  of  caution. 
I  want  to  be  forgiven  of  myself  for  the  deep  and  heart- 
disturbing  grief  which  I  brought  upon  my  disconsolate 
friend.  Oh  !  John,  could  I  picture  for  you  a  face  over 
hung  by  a  shadow  of  semi-despair  as  we  talked  the 
matter  all  over  again,  I  can  but  think  that  the 
noble  heart  of  my  cousin  would  re-lent,  and  that  he 
would  fly  to  the  side  of  her  whose  wounds  are  still  so 
fresh." 

"Come,  cousin  ;  Oh  !  do  come.  I  can  but  think  that 
if  you  smother  your  pride  and  come  to  the  relief  of  two 
sorrowing  girls,  it  will  not  be  long  before  you  will 
realize  that  you  are  panoplied  anew  for  a  better  and 
nobler  life. 

When  John  had  finished  reading  this  letter,  a  shadow 
might  have  been  discovered  to  be  over-spreading  a  face, 
from  which  all  gloom  had  been  recently  chased. 
To  the  onlooker  it  would  have  been  easily  discov 
ered  that  the  sitting  of  that  shadow  on  that  face 
betokened  the  absorbing  theme  his  mind  was  then 
engaged  in  conning  over.  Soliloquizing,  the  reader, 
letter  in  hand,  said,  "Can  it  be  possible  that  I  under 
valued  the  wealth  of  affection  which  Mary  Lawson 
carried  for  me  ?  Is  it  true  that  from  timidity  and  bad 


144  WHAT  NEXT? 

advice,  a  real  genuine  heart  hid  its  devotions  for  me 
behind  a  cloak  of  formality  which  was  but  a  disguise  ? 
Can  it  be  that  my  own  mental  obtuseness  prevented 
me  from  discovering  the  real  genuine  jewel  because  it 
was  concealed  by  a  covering  which  another  bid  it  wear  ? 
Oh!  how  deeply  do  I  regret  that  through  any  act  of  mine 
one  single  thrill  of  sadness  should  have  found  even  a 
momentary  lodgement  in  the  heart  of  Miss  Lawson.  If 
cousin  Bertha  represents  the  true  inwardness  of  Miss 
Lawson's  soul,  I  have  ten  thousand  reasons  for  self- 
condemnation  where  either  of  the  young  ladies  have 
one.  I  was  too  ready  to  discover  suppositional  faults 
I  was  too  ready  to  put  a  false  inteipretation  upon  a 
word  misunderstood — a  look  erroniously  defined.  I 
could  almost  curse  the  suspicion  which  misled  me. 
But  why  indulge  in  this  fit  of  self-censure  ?  The  die  is 
cast,  the  Rubicon  is  past,  and  I  cannot  retrace  my 
steps.  I  will  so  write  to  Bertha,  but  while  I  must  say 
that  a  retracing  of  my  steps  is  absolutely  something  I 
cannot  do,  I  will  administer  the  balm  of  consolation 
to  the  young  lady  as  far  as  I  can.  Now,  What 
Next  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"She   was  the  pride 
Of  her  familiar  sphere — the  daily  joy 
Of  all  who  on  her  gracefulness  might  gaze, 
And  in  the  litfht  and  music  of  her  way 
Have  a  companion's  portion." 

—Willis. 

I  [HEN  John  Parsons  moved  into  his  new  boarding- 
house  and  began  teaching  the  new  school,  he  was 
somewhat  slow  in  forming  an  acquaintance 
with  the  heads  of  the  families  and  the  young 
people  of  the  neighborhood  who  were  past  the  age  for 
attending  school.  With  the  pupils  under  his  charge  he 
was  soon  on  terms  of  sufficient  intimacy  and  estab 
lished  influence  to  bring  every  one  under  the  power  of 
that  influence  and  yet  have  each  one  feel  that  there 
was  a  recognized  and  true  friend  in  the  new  teacher. 

Little  by  little  he  became  known  to  nearly  all  who 
would  be  likely  to  become  interested  in  his  welfare, 
and,  inasmuch  as  he  was  what  is  termed  a  good 
mixer,  by  reason  of  his  genial  and  cheerful  disposition, 
his  elegant  and  attractive*  manners,  as  well  as  his 
superior  conversational  powers,  he  soon  became  quite 
a  favorite  among  both  the  old  and  the  young. 

Mr.  Watson  had  quite  a  family  of  children.  Among 
them  were  two  daughters,  the  elder  having  attained 
the  age  which  placed  an  unmarried  lady  on  the  old 
maid  list ;  while  the  younger,  who  was  good  looking, 
was  in  attendance  upon  a  small  boarding-school,  and 
came  home  on  Friday  in  each  week.  The  rest  of  Mr. 
Watson's  girls  were  younger  and  attended  Parsons' 
school.  There  were  three  grown  sons  in  the  Watson 
family,  all  of  whom*  were  very  rough  and  unlettered. 

WHAT  NEXT? — 10. 


146  WHAT  NEXT? 

As  a  boarder  in  the  family,  John  found  himself  very 
pleasantly  situated.  The  ladies  in  the  family,  from 
the  mother  down,  vied  with  each  other  in  the  nice 
little  attentions  which  fhey  could  show  him.  Was  a 
dining  spread  for  visitors,  inasmuch  as  Parsons  did  not 
come  home  to  dinner,  Miss  Lena  Watson,  the  eldest 
daughter,  was  sure  to  put  by  a  part  of  the  nice 
delicacies  which  had  been  offered  to  the  visitors  ;  and, 
upon  his  return,  which  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  set 
the  same  before  the  young  teacher.  Of  course  this  was 
very  agreeable  to  Parsons,  and  served  to  strengthen 
the  chain  of  friendship  which  was  being  wrought 
between  him  and  the  Watson  family. 

It  was  soon  discovered  by  Parsons  that  Miss  Lena 
Watson  was  one  of  the  best  versed  women  in  the  whole 
country  in  regard  to  the  history  of  its  oldest  and  most 
influential  families.  John  never  learned  from  what  source 
Miss  Lena  obtained  her  information,  but  it  was  generally 
conceded  that  her  pedigree-reading  was  not  only  in 
the  main  correct,  but  in  most  cases  absolutely 
accurate. 

There  was  living  in  close  proximity  to  the  school 
building  a  family  wearing  the  name  of  Rowdon.  With 
the  exception  of  the  small  girls  of  this  family,  who 
attended  his  school,  John  had  become  acquainted  with 
none  of  its  members. 

In  conversation  with  Miss  Lena,  only  a  short  time 
after  he  came  into  the  community,  John  Parsons  made 
some  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  Rowdon  family,  and 
was  greatly  surprised  to  hear  her  give  such  a  succinct 
and  complete  epitome  of  its  history. 

"To  begin,"  said  Miss  Lena,  "Mr.  Rowdon  is  a  very 
eccentric  man.  Indeed  he  is  so  peculiar  that  even  the 


WHAT  NEXT?  147 

people  about  him  criticise  his  indiosyncrasies.  He  is  a 
good  neighbor,  however;  kind,  obliging  and  charitable. 
His  father  emigrated  about  the  middle  of  the  last 
century  to  the  United  States  from  the  county  of  Cork, 
Ireland,  very  early  in  the  history  of  the  Republic.  His 
son,  Henry  Rowdon,  came  from  Virginia  just  before 
the  beginning  of  the  present  century  and  located  in 
this  county.  About  the  same  time  a  family  of  Robin 
sons  emigrated  to  the  States  from  the  county  of 
Anglesia,  Wales,  and  settled  in  Virginia.  Remaining 
there  but  a  short  time,  they  too  came  from  there  to 
Kentucky  and  domiciled  themselves  in  this  county.  In 
this  family  there  were  several  very  handsome  and 
sprightly  young  ladies,  one  of  whom  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon 
married. 

"The  union  between  these  two  people,  whose 
progenitors  were  representatives  of  two  divisions  of 
the  country  of  George  III.,  resulted  in  giving  to  this 
particular  country  a  family  of  no  mean  pretentious. 

"Mr.  Henry  Rowdon  is  a  man  of  vigorous  intellect, 
and  wonderful  energy.  He  exhibits  his  Hibernian 
origin  in  a  very  marked  degree,  in  every  lineament  of 
his  face,  and  in  the  pugnacious  bravery  with  which  he 
fights  his  way  through  difficulties  that  lie  in  the  way 
of  financial  success.  He  began  life  a  poor  boy,  and 
even  when  he  had  accumulated  but  little  property,  he 
married  Miss  Elizabeth  Robinson,  and  the  two  started 
out  at  once  upon  the  road  to  success.  His  wife  proved 
to  be  a  frugal,  prudent,  model  house-keeper — a  provi 
dent  and  industrious  helper — an  excellent  neighbor — 
a  devoted  mother,  and,  as  the  coronet  to  a  life  full  of 
good  deeds  and  noble  charities,  she  had  a  pure  mind, 
and  was  a  devoted  Christian. 


148  WHAT  NEXT? 

"This,  Mr.  Parsons,"  said  Miss  Watson,  "is  proba 
bly  about  as  far  as  I  ought  to  go,  with  my  history  and 
my  compliments.  When  you  shall  have  been  longer  in 
our  midst,  and  your  acquaintance  with  this  family 
shall  have  become  more  matured,  you  will  learn, 
through  your  social  intercourse  with  them,  as  well  a& 
from  those  who  are  intimate  with  the  family,  just  how 
to  appreciate  them." 

"  I  am  under  obligations  to  you,  Miss  Lena,  for  the 
information  you  have  given  me.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
shall  make  myself  so  specially  interested  in  the  Rowdon 
family,  as  to  push  my  investigations  very  much 
further,"  said  Parsons.  "As  a  patron  of  my  school,  I 
shall  certainly  make  myself  sufficiently  interested  in 
the  welfare  of  Mr.  Rowdon's  household,  to  do  all  in  my 
power  to  further  the  interest  of  his  younger  daughters, 
and  if,  from  any  information  you  have  given  me,  I  can 
the  better  see  my  way  to  the  accomplishing  of  my 
professional  purposes,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  under  still 
greater  obligations." 

''I  might  in  justice  to  her  memory,"  said  Miss 
Watson,  "add  just  this  much.  Mrs.  Rowdon  consid 
ered  it  to  be  her  first  duty,  under  Divine  teaching,  as  she 
understood  it,  'to  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in 
their  affliction,  and  to  keep  (herself)  unspotted  from 
the  world.'  Her  second  obligation  was  to  her  family, 
and  few  mothers  carried  more  solicitude  and  maternal 
kindness  than  did  this  most  excellent  woman, 
for  her  children,  and  no  one  in  fall  this  region 
wore  a  better  name  for  her  universal  kindness,  or  had 
a  more  widely  spread  reputation  for  unstinted  gener 
osity  than  did  Mrs.  Rowdon." 

From  other  sources,  John  Parsons  learned  that  by 


WHAT  NEXT?  149 

close  attention  to  business  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Rowdon, 
and  patient  and  painstaking  industry  on  the  part  of 
his  wife,  the  exhibitions  of  thrift  did  not,  for  any 
length  of  time,  lie  concealed  about  their  home. 
Prosperity  was  evident  everywhere  about  them.  The 
accumulation  of  acres,  and  the  consequent  widening  of 
the  limits  of  Mr.  Rowdon's  possessions  in  real  estate, 
was  commented  upon  by  his  neighbors.  Whenever  a 
piece  of  land  was  thrown  upon  the  market  in  his 
immediate  locality  he  became  the  purchaser,  provided 
the  price  and  quality  suited  him.  In  this  way  his  land, 
in  the  aggregate,  made  him  the  owner  of  one  of  the 
largest  plantations  in  the  county.  He  owned  more 
slaves  than  any  other  man  in  the  county,  and  these 
together  with  his  stock,  blue-grass  pastures,  garnered 
grain  and  provender  betokened  a  large  share  of  pros 
perity. 

But,  in  the  very  height  of  his  success,  an  irreparable 
calamity  befell  him  in  the  loss  of  his  noble  wife.  To 
make  the  misfortune  worse,  he  was  left  with  a  family 
of  children — all  girls,  and  no  one  of  them  grown.  To 
compensate,  as  far  as  possible  for  their  bereavement,  a 
maiden  aunt  went  to  their  help,  and  to  some  extent  at 
least,  supplied  the  place  of  her  deceased  sister. 

To  a  man  with  less  resolution  and  less  determination 
such  a  stunning  blow  would  have  produced  a  temporary 
parahrsis  in  his  business  arrangements,  and  the 
settling  down  upon  him  of  a  cloud  of  impenetrable 
grief.  Not  so  .with  Mr.  Rowdon.  He  looked  upon  his 
misfortune  with  the  eye  of  a  philosopher — as  one  of 
those  strange  events  in  human  life  for  which  there  is 
no  accounting.  He  seemed  to  think  that  having  used 
every  effort  in  his  power  to  cheat  the  despoiler  of  human 


150  WHAT. NEXT? 

hopes  of  his  prize,  and  having  failed,  neither  grief  nor 
pining  could  mend  what  death  had  in  rudeness  broken, 
and  he  would  give  a  renewal  of  his  energies  to  the  care 
and  comfort  of  his  children, 

The  eldest  of  the  Rowdon  children,  a  daughter,  was 
just  entering  her  teens  when  the  calamitous  misfortune 
of  losing  her  mother  occurred.  When  the  announce 
ment  was  made  'to  her  that  her  mother  was  no  more, 
it  fell  upon  her  ears  with  a  sickening  thud  from  the 
effect  of  which,  as  soon  as  she  had  rallied,  she  began 
to  wonder  what  disposition  would  be  made  of  the 
household.  "Who  will  give  our  flock  care  and  counsel 
bv  'day  or  hovering  protection  by  night?"  said 
Lunata  Rowdon,  now  that  my  mother  is  gone  !  Alas  ! 
who  will  interest  themselves  sufficiently  in  our  welfare 
to  direct  us  with  their  advice,  or  in  kindness,  correct 
our  mistakes  ?  Oh  !  Lord,  how  heavily  this  heart 
hangs  in  my  poor  body,  when  I  think  that  there  is  no 
one  now  before  whose  listening  ears  we  can  present 
our  childish  petitions,  or  unfold  our  childish  griefs. 

Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  was  the  eldest  of  the  family  of 
children,  and  was  the  only  one  among  them  of 
sufficient  maturity  to  have  a  full  appreciation  of  the 
calamity  which  had  befallen  them.  All  seemed  stunned, 
but  the  grief  of  the  little  children  was  like  sunshine 
in  its  play  of  shower-drops  left  bjr  the  rain  after  an  April 
shower.  Poor  little  children  !  They  would  never  know  of 
what  they  had  been  robbed,  and  it  was  well  for  them 
that  a  buoyant  brightness  could  so  soon  supercede  the 
passing  gloom. 

With  Lunata  it  was  different.  Whether  in  the  early 
morning — during  the  busy  hours  of  the  day,  or  in  the 
gloaming,  sorrow  and  grief-stricken  meditation  told 


WHAT  NEXT?  15 1 

the  doleful  tale  of  her  suffering.  At  high  noon,  when 
the  household  was  wont  to  gather  about  the 
famil}'  board,  and  no  mother  was  there  to  preside, 
Lunata's  heart  would  be  troubled,  and  with  difficulty 
did  she  suppress  her  tears  and  stifle  her  rising  sighs. 
In  the  night-time,  when  a  sable  curtain  hung  above  a 
hemisphere,  and  all  save  herself  in  the  house  were  in 
slumber,  she  listened,  as  in  imagination  she  heard  the 
flute-like  lullaby  of  that  mother's  voice  as  it  had  been 
so  often  heard,  while  singing  her  baby  girl  to  sleep. 
Waking  from  her  re  very,  her  heart  would  be  full  of 
pain.  But  in  the  midst  of  this  consuming  sorrow  her 
eyes  would  peer  into  the  azure  depths,  and  she  would 
wonder;  Ah  !  yes,  wonder  if  mother's  voice  was  not 
helping  to  swell  the  chorus  of  Heaven. 

Time's  curative  power  is  almost  a  marvel.  It  can 
soothe  sorrow,  alleviate  grief,  cure  spiritual  wounds, 
brush  the  clouds  from  about  the  mental  horizon  and 
hang  the  future  full  of  brightening  prospects.  It  is  really 
a  wonderful  sedative.  In  its  quieting  effects  it  will 
bring  relief  when  all  other  remedies  have  signally 
failed. 

Although  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  was  so  very  young, 
for  one  of  her  years  she  was  remarkably  well  developed 
both  physically  and  mentally.  She  was  in  reality  a 
girl-woman.  She  possessed  an  unusual  amount  of 
that  commodity  which  so  few  young  women  know  very 
much  about,  namely:  Common  sense.  The  mother 
before  her  had  been  a  woman  of  large  ideas  and  fine 
business  qualifications.  She  always  had,  in  the 
discharge  of  such  duties  as  devolved  upon  her,  in  the 
management  of  household  work,  the  very  best  and 
soundest  judgment.  When  her  husband  was  from  home, 


152  WHAT  NEXT? 

which  was  often  the  case,  no  part  of  either  the  in-door 
work,  or  the  farming  operations  suffered  for  the  want 
of  an  overseer.  She  superintended  everj'thing,  and 
whatever  wras  done  under  her  direction  was  well  done. 

Lunata  being  the  oldest  child,  and  devoted  to  her 
mother,  soon  became  a  kind  of  coadjutor  in  the  prosecu 
tion  and  oversight  of  the  work  necessary  to  be  done,  any- 
where  and  everywhere  upon  the  Rowdon  plantation.  Not 
that  she  or  her  mother  took  part  in  any  of  the  manual 
labor  done,  but  looked  after  the  work  and  saw  that  the 
hands  neither  shirked  from  duty  nor  slighted  what  was 
done. 

In  this  way  Lunata  was,  at  an  early  period  in  her 
history,  inducted  into  the  mysteries  of  actual,  active 
business.  Upon  the  loss  of  her  mother,  it  became  at 
once  evident  that  a  change  in  the  affairs  of  the  Rowdon 
family  had  to  be  made.  Miss  Lunata  being  the  oldest, 
by  right  of  her  birth,  was  made  to  assume  the  position 
which  was  unsuited  to  her  years,  and  which  she  could 
not  have  filled  but  for  the  instruction  and  training 
which  she  had  received  at  the  hands  of  her  mother. 

The  father  was  devoted  to  this  daughter,  but,  from 
the  press  of  business  which  was  continually  on  his 
hands,  Lunata  knew  she  could  not  rely  on  getting  very 
much  help  from  her  father  in  superintending  the  work 
to  which  she  had  been  appointed.  There  was  one 
thing,  however,  in  which  Lunata  took  comfort.  The 
retinue  of  servants  seemed  to  consider  her  as  the  queen 
regent  of  the  plantation,  and  were  ready  always  to  do 
her  bidding,  or  make  any  sacrifice  in  obedience  to  her 
dictum.  By  a  uniform  course  of  kindness,  in  her 
treatment  of  these  slaves,  they  became  bound  to  her 
by  the  ties  of  a  high  personal  regard,  and  would  have 


WHAT  NEXT?  153 

gone  any  length  to  confer  a  favor,  or  even  gratify  a 
whim.  She  was  a  kind  of  idol  among  them,  and  with 
superstitous  devotion  had  she  but  erected  an  altar,  they 
would  have  laid  thereon  their  best  votive  offerings. 
She  was  equally  kind  to  all.  None  were  too  old  to  be 
freed  from  her  attentions — none  too  young  to  pass  in 
her  presence  unnoticed.  She  was  considerate  and 
thoughtful  in  regard  to  the  comfort  of  all.  Contribu 
tions  were  not  unfrequently  made  to  their  cabin 
hospitalities,  when  visitors  called  upon  their  occupants. 
By  this  course  she  won  the  love  and  confidence  of  the 
little  battalion  of  negro  slaves  who  were  an  appendage 
to  the  Rowon  plantation,  and,  under  her  mild  reign 
there  is  much  to  show  that  they  were  happier,  better 
provided  for,  if  not  better  satisfied  than  any  of  them 
have  ever  been  since,  unless  it  be  those  who  have  gone 
to  a  place  where  color,  caste  and  birth  are  wholly 
ignored. 

It  is  astonishing  to  see  what  wondrous  results  are  some 
times  produced  as  the  outcome  of  necessity.  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon's  tact,  skill,  push  and  energy  in  filling 
a  place,  into  which  she  had  been  forced  by  an  almost 
absolute  compulsion,  attracted  the  attention  of  all 
visitors  to  the  family  mansion.  So  noticeable  was  this 
as  a  peculiar  manifestation  of  executive  ability,  that  it 
gave  rise  to  many  declarations,  as  to  what  would  be, 
in  the  near  future,  her  adaptability  to  preside  as  queen 
of  hearts,  in  the  house  of  some  worthy  gentleman. 

For  three  years  after  the  death  of  her  mother,  Lunata 
conducted  the  affairs  of  her  father's  household  success 
fully.  He  was  a  shrewd  and  successful  financier,  and, 
in  his  business  exterprise,  had  in  his  daughter  a  faithful 
and  trusty  ally. 


154  WHAT  NEXT? 

As  Miss  Rowdon  grew  in  years  she  grew  in  pop 
ularity  with  both  the  young  and  old.  When  she  had 
attained  her  sixteenth  year,  she  was  regarded  as  the 
belle — the  accredited  beauty  of  her  county. 

Miss  Lunata  was  prematurely  developed,  as  has  al 
ready  been  said,  for  one  of  her  years;  and  yet,  even  under 
the  embarrassing  and  disadvantageous  circumstances 
by  which  she  had  been  environed,  she  had  built  for 
herself  upon  a  comparatively  slight  foundation,  a  good 
education.  This  result  she  accomplished  by  a  rigid 
course  of  self-culture,  and  a  well  selected  course  of 
general  reading.  Polite  literature  she  engaged  in 
perusing  very  much  as  she  ate  a  relish  or  an  appetizer 
before  breakfast — never  using  it  in  large  quantities.  If, 
at  any  time  she  found  herself  stranded  in  her  inves 
tigation  of  some  occult  proposition  in  science,  the 
teacher  of  the  neighborhood  school  was  usually  glad  to 
lend  her  a  helping  hand.  She  had  inherited  much  of 
the  keen  and  discriminating  intellectuality  of  her 
father  and  was  therefore  a  ready  and  rapid  learner.  As 
her  general  intelligence  and  fund  of  useful  knowledge 
increased,  in  a  corresponding  ratio  did  the  sparkling 
brightness  of  a  well-stored  mind  add  to  the  charms  of 
her  personal  beauty.  The  wonder  with  those  who  were 
even  most  intimately  acquainted  with  the  young  lady 
was,  as  to  the  source  from  which  she  derived  such  a 
supply  of  useful  information — from  what  fountain  she 
gathered  such  power  as  a  bright  conversationalist,  and 
whence  came  her  gift  of  read}-  wit. 

Could  those,  whose  curiosit}'  had  been  aroused  on 
these  points,  have  been  able  to  comprehend  the  powers 
of  a  superior  mind,  when  backed  by  an  indomitable 
will,  in  its  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  have  them 
discover  that  the  mind  of  Miss  Rowdon  answered  as 


WHAT  NEXT:  155 

to  its  powers,  the  question  of  the  investigator,  the 
problem  would  be  solved.  But,  so  it  was,  MissRowdon 
was  educated,  and  but  very  few  knew  how  or  when. 

It  will  be  somewhat  difficult  to  draw  a  word  picture 
of  the  young  lady  who  was  to  become  so  important  a 
factor  in  the  make-up  of  this  epitome  of  historical 
love,  devotion  to  the  principles  of  right,  and  uncom 
promising  fidelity  to  truth. 

The  young  lady  whose  picture  I  would  seek  to  draw 
in  words,  was  a  decided  brunette,  with  a  possible 
exception  as  to  her  eyes.  These  were  blue — not  large, 
but  expressive,  speaking  eyes — eyes  in  which  the 
witchery  of  fun  and  mischief  danced  in  their  every 
sparkle.  Her  hair  was  ebon  black  and  as  glossy  as  a 
raven's  wing.  It  lay  in  wavy  ringlets  about  a  well  propor 
tioned  head,  and  was  quite  a  truthful,  if  not  a  scientific 
barometer,  in  its  more  or  less  persistent  curling  with 
the  changes  in  the  weather.  Such  hair  as  crowned  the 
head  of  her  whose  picture  I  am  still  essaying  to  draw, 
was  an  ornament  which  excited  the  covetousness  of  many 
a  fair  admirer,  and  elicited  the  universal  admiration  of 
every  man  whose  attention  was  caught  thereby.  Her 
features  were  strictly  classic,  strong  and  well  defined. 
Her  complexion  was  a  contest  for  supremacy  between 
marmorean  whiteness  and  the  roseate  pink  of  the 
queen  of  flowers — the  one  or  the  other  in  the  ascen 
dency,  as  there  was  the  spirited  flow  of  animated 
conversation  or  the  quiet  of  pensive  meditation.  In  form 
the  young  lady  was  a  pattern  of  symmetry.  Every  curve 
in  her  well-rounded  body  was  a  definition  of 
Hogarth's  line  of  beauty.  In  pose  she  would  have 
been  a  model  for  the  sculptor. 

This,  kind  reader,  is  the  picture  I  have  attempted  to 


156  WHAT  NEXT? 

draw,  as  a  word  portraiture  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  as 
she  stood  before  an  admirer  in  the  unblemished  beauty 
of  her  young  womanhood,  over  a  half  a  century  ago. 
It  is  faithful  to  life.  Do  you  like  it  ?  I  have  given  it 
as  it  was  given  me. 

There  are  many  other  things  besides  her  personal 
appearance  which  rendered  Miss  Rowdon  especially 
attractive.  She  was  a  young  lady  of  fine  address — a 
large  share  of  good,  common  sense,  supplemented  by 
a  rich  vein  of  sparkling  vivacit}'.  To  the  existence  of 
vanity  in  her  make-up,  because  of  any  special  endow 
ments  of  either  mind  or  body,  she  was  absolutely 
ignorant,  and  she  was,  at  all  times,  agreeable,  because 
she  was  naturally  an  embodiment  of  unsuspecting 
goodness.  That  a  young  lady  with  such  qualities — 
such  attributes  of  character  should  attract  attention, 
and  draw  about  her  a  large  number  of  admirers,  was 
not  at  all  strange.  More  especially  was  it  not  a  mat 
ter  of  surprise  to  those  who  were  well  acquainted  with 
the  3roung  lady,  that  she  should  have  had  so  very  much 
attention. 

That  Miss  Lunata's  father  should  have  made  himself 
sufficiently  interested  in  her  young  gentlemen  visitors, 
to  lead  him  to  seek  to  understand  the  object  of  their 
visits,  was  not  wondered  at,  by  those  who  knew  him. 
He  was  quite  avaricious,  and,  therefore,  wanted  his 
daughter,  whenever  she  began  to  think  of  making  a 
matrimonial  alliance,  to  keep  before  her  mental  vision 
the  French  maxim,  that  "Love  is  potent,  but  money  is 
omnipotent." 

Miss  Rowdon  had  not  really  made  her  debut  into 
the  circle  of  society,  when  a  young  bachelor,  who 
had  nothing  to  recommend  him  except  a  farm  which 


WHAT  NEXT?  157 

adjoined  the  lands  of  Mr.  Rowdon,  became  acquainted 
with  Miss  Lunata,  and  was  not  only  well  pleased  but 
fascinated  by  her  beauty  and  brightness.  He  therefore 
determined  to  put  himself  at  once  in  the  van  of  those 
who  had  been  showing  her  attention  and  soon 
intimated  to  his  friends  that  he  was  her  accepted  wooer. 

This  young  man — Aurelius  Munson  by  name,  very 
justly  concluded  that  Mr.  Rowdon  would  favor  his  suit 
for  three  reasons.  First :  because  of  his  having  lived 
long  enough  to  have  gathered  his  last  crop  of  wild 
oats  ;  secondly,  because  of  the  farm  which  he  owned, 
and  which  bordered  the  Rowdon  territory,  and  thirdly,  in 
consideration  of  the  fact  that  Aurelius  had  some  rich 
relatives  whose  property  it  was  thought,  would  ultimately 
come  into  his  possession  in  part  as  one  of  the  legatees.  Au 
relius  did  not  count  without  his  host.  He  was  by  no  means 
an  attractive  man — coarse,  ungainly,  and  almost  as 
dark  colored  as  a  Spaniard,  he  was  also  very  illiterate; 
but  his  illiteracy  did  not  set  him  back  any.  He  con 
sidered  himself  as  good  as  the  best,  and  was  oblivious 
to  the  fact  that  he  used  a  very  peculiar  or  antiquated 
style  of  corrupted  English.  He  was  a  big  talker,  and 
as  a  laugher,  he  was  counted  a  decided  success.  He 
commenced  paying  court  to  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon, 
while,  as  yet,  she  was  too  young  to  contemplate  the 
reception  of  gentlemen  visitors,  with  a  view  to  court 
ship.  She  received  the  attention  at  the  hands  of  the 
young  man  and  treated  him  politely  in  deference  to  the 
wishes  of  her  father. 

For  some  reason  Mr.  Rowdon  had  formed  a  very 
favorable  opinion  of  the  young  farming  bachelor,  and 
it  was  very  nice  to  have  him  stop  by  every  evening  or 
two — talk  business  with  the  father  for  a  time,  provided 


158  WHAT  NEXT? 

he  was  at  home,  and  devote  another  part  of  his  time 
in  chatting  chaff  with  the  daughter. 

Munson  always  rode  a  good  horse,  and  heing  an 
excellent  and  graceful  rider,  he  made  quite  a  respect 
able  appearance,  when  seen  at  a  distance.  He  made 
rather  a  bad  appearance  on  foot.  He  was  crooked  and 
walked  with  an  ambling,  ungainly  gait,  and  hence  was 
at  his  best  when  astride  a  spirited  and  well-gaited 
horse. 

As  to  the  personal  popularity  of  bachelor  Munson, 
it  was  without  discount  among  young  men  and  old  folks, 
but  among  the  young  ladies  of  the  country  it  was  consid 
erably  below  par,  a  large  majority  of  them  voting  him 
an  illiterate  bore.  But  his  want  of  education  had  no 
influence  with  Mr.  Rowdon.  Aurelius  could  talk  hogs, 
cattle,  horses,  and  farm  work  generally,  and  the  elder 
gentleman  considered  this  as  education  enough  to 
recommend  a  young  man  to  the  consideration  of  all 
honest  people. 

As  already  said,  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon's  attractive 
ness  did  not  fail  to  elicit  a  due  amount  of  appreciation. 
Wherever  she  went  she  was  sure  to  draw  from  young 
and  old,  flattering  testimonials  of  their  admiration  of  her 
beauty  of  person — her  mental  activity  and  ready  wit. 
She  was  handsome,  without  seeming  to  have  discovered 
the  fact,  She  was  often  facetious  or  even  satirical  without 
an  effort  to  be  either,  and  among  the  many  who 
admired  her,  Aurelius  Munson  was  readiest  in  the 
encomiums  which  he  whispered  to  himself — yes,  to 
himself,  for  he  feared  that  if  he  became  loud-mouthed  in 
his  expressions  of  admiration,  it  might  be  the  means 
of  stirring  up  other  admirers,  while  he  thought  she  had 
too  many  already. 


WHAT  NEXT?  159 

Aurelius  was  ever  on  the  qui  vive  to  know  who 
visited  the  Rowdons.  When  the  young  men  of  the 
county  called  on  the  paterfamilias  even  upon  business, 
the  suspicion  of  Munson  was  not  quieted  until  he  had 
discovered  that  the  visit  was  not  intended  for  Miss 
Lunata. 

The  attention  which  Munson  gave  to  his  daughter 
wras  favored  by  Mr.  Rowdon,  and  his  pleasure,  because 
of  his  special  and  frequent  calls,  was  manifested  in 
various  ways.  Indeed  so  conspicuous  did  his  favoritism 
become  that  he  was  criticised  because  of  it  by  both  young 
and  old.  In  addition  to  the  various  outward  exhibits 
of  popularity  which  the  father  showed  for  the  young 
bachelor,  it  became  known  that  whenever  the  time  was 
propitious  for  so  doing,  he  was  ready  to  repeat,  in 
the  hearing  of  Lunata,  some  compliment  that  had 
been  paid  to  Munson  by  some  one  of  his  neighbors. 

It  became  evident,  from  what  was  known  to  be 
transpiring  in  the  Rowdon  family  that  the  head  of  that 
houshold  had  about  settled  the  matter  in  his  own 
mind  in  regard  to  the  marriage  of  his  oldest  daughter. 
In  other  words,  he  had  selected  the  bachelor  as  the 
spouse  of  his  daughter,  whenever  she  reached  a  mar- 
riagable  age.  This  being  true,  settled  another  matter, 
namely:  that  the  man  who  attempted  to  thwart  the 
purpose  of  the  father  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  in 
matters  matrimonial,  would  invite  an  unequal  contest, 
unless  he  could  bring  the  young  lady  to  the  point  of 
defiant  rebellion  against  parental  authority;  for,  even 
in  the  event  of  direct  filial  disobedience,  there  was  no 
insurance  office  to  be  found  which  would  take  a  risk 
upon  success  either  way. 

M  iss  Lunata  was  too  young  to  marry,  but  she  was 


160  WHAT  NEXT? 

not  too  young  to  be  courted,  thought  Aurelius — too 
young  to  be  driven  into  the  matrimonial  net,  but  not 
too  young  to  be  tied  by  pledges  that  .would  prevent  her 
escaping  into  some  other  fellow's  net,  in  the  future. 
He  had  known  her  long  enough  to  be  profoundly 
impressed  with  her  uncompromising  integrity,  and 
would  therefore  have  been  relieved,  and  his  mind 
quieted,  by  securing  from  her  the  pledge  that  his  claim 
should  be  first  considered  whenever  she  came  into  the 
connubial  market. 

Munson|may  have  been  able  to  drive  a  sharp  trade  in 
an  ordinary  horse-market,  but  his  judgment  was 
woefully  deficient  in  dealing  in  futures.  His  math 
ematics  was  presumably  better  than  his  prophecy — his 
credulity  more  abundant  than  his  good  sense.  But  he 
was  opinionated,  and  proposed  to  undertake  a  very 
large  job,  expecting,  of  course,  to  have  the  backing 
and  support  of  the  young  lady's  father  in  his  proposed 
enterprise. 

The  amount  of  confidence  which  the  bachelor 
evinced  in  being  able  to  corral  the  prize  sought,  was 
absolutely  amazing.  He  was,  by  no  means,  a  first 
class  hand  at  throwing  a  love-lariat,  and  his  inex 
perience  and  blunt  awkwardness,  it  was  predicted, 
would  lose  him  success  in  any  event.  He  wanted  no 
help.  He  did  not  enter  into  this  feat  of  securing  by 
craft  the  desired  pledge  contemplating  defeat.  He 
banked  largely  on  the  course  which  his  potent  aux 
iliary  could,  and  would  bring  to  bear  in  the  rear. 

With  the  bearing  of  a  knighted  cavalier  he  approached 
the  young  lady  and  somewhat  confidentially  opened  up 
the  subject  for  which  his  visit  was  made.  To  hi& 
stammering  and  illy  worded  speech,  she  listened  in 


WHAT  NEXT?  161 

wonderment.  When  he  reached  a  point  where  a  colon 
was  needed  she  waited  not  for  farther  talk  to  reach 
the  marking  of  a  period,  hut  at  once  made  a  reply 
with  what  needed  a  very  large  interrogation  point.  She 
asked  him  why  he  had  come  into  her  presence  with  such 
a  strange  and  incongruous  medley  of  declarations.  She 
informed  him  that  she  had  supposed  him  to  be  a  rather 
special  friend  of  her  father,  but  had  never  thought  that 
he  desired  to  be  considered  even  a  particular  friend  of 
her,  much  less  that  he  desired  to  come  into  a  more 
sacred  relation  than  a  friend  to  her.  She  told  him  she 
would  still  be  glad  to  consider  him  the  friend  of  her  fa 
ther  and  his  family,  but  that  he  must  not  consider 
himself  at  liberty  to  approach  her  in  any  other  way  than 
as  a  friend.  She  stated  further  that  she  detested  duplicity 
and,  for  this  reason,  had  spoken  frankly  and  with 
candor  what  she  had  to  say. 

The  bachelor  was  taken  somewhat  aback  at  this 
speech  of  Miss  Lunata,  but  was  not  dismayed.  He 
studied  for  a  few  moments  as  to  how  he  would  renew 
his  attack  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  he  had  been  somewhat 
bold  in  his  first  charge,  only  to  meet  with  a  serious 
repulse,  he  concluded  that  discretion  was  needed  in  the 
fight  upon  which  he  had  entered,  and  therefore  resolved 
upon  a  flank  movement  to  be  accompanied  with  a 
little  less  dash.  Caution  and  prudence,  he  discovered, 
must  be  used  in  beating  down  the  bulwarks  of  a  well 
fortified  and  well  guarded  set  of  affections,  and  he 
proceeded  accordingly. 

On  leaving  the  Rowdon  homestead,  after  this,  his 
first  attack  upon  the  citadel  of  Miss  Lunata's  heart, 
and  meeting  with  the  defeat  which  he  did,  the  feathers 

WHAT  NEXT? — 11. 


162  W.iAT  NEXT? 

of  the  opinionated  wooer  were  very  much  wilted.  But, 
going  away,  he  studied  himself  into  an  amount  of 
fresh  courage,  and  resolved  upon  a  renewal  of 
his  efforts  to  secure  a  new  and  better  hearing  of  his 
plea.  When  next  he  put  in  an  appearance,  all  bland- 
ness  and  smiles,  at  the  Rowdon  home,  Miss  Lunata, 
with  the  grace  and  elegance  of  the  true  lady,  gave  him 
a  pleasant  greeting  and  informed  him  her  father  was 
not  at  home,  and  would  not  be  till  quite  late  in  the 
afternoon. 

Munson  asked  to  be  excused,  and  informed  the  young 
lady  that  he  had  not  called  to  make  a  visit  to  her 
father,  but  had  simply  stopped  in  upon  passing  to 
make  a  friendly  call  upon  her — that  he  was  fond  of 
her  personally — that  he  liked  her  company  and  had 
always  found  her  a  good  conversationalist.  He  insisted 
that  she  could  not  be  wholly  uninterested  in  his  calling, 
as  it  was  a  complimentary  act,  both  to  her  and  himself. 
He  thought  it  a  compliment  to  her  as  evincing  good 
taste  to  seek  her  company,  and  a  compliment  to  him 
self  as  showing  good  judgment. 

Miss  Lunata  saw  at  once  that  there  was  a  toning 
down  in  the  deportment  of  the  bachelor.  He  was 
neither  so  presumptuous  nor  so  boisterous  as  he  had  been 
on  a  former  visit — he  had  not  so  definately  pushed 
himself  upon  her  consideration,  nor  laughed  so  loud. 
In  the  goodness  of  her  nature  she  had  aroused  in  her 
mind  some  degree  of  sympathy  and  pity  for  the 
bachelor,  and  was  not  sufficiently  adroit  to  conceal 
entirely  the  workings  of  her  own  heart.  Munson  saw 
the  change  in  her  face  and  demeanor.  He  took 
courage,  and,  rising  to  leave,  asked  Miss  Rowdon  if  she 


WHAT  NEXT?  163 

would  object  to  his  calling  on  her  now  and  then.  To 
which  she  replied  by  sajdng,  that  as  a  friend,  his  visits 
would  not  be  objectionable. 

Munson  availedjhimself  of  the  permission  to  call  at 
such  intervals  as  might  be  understood  by  his  "now 
and  then,"  and  became  a  very  frequent  visitor  to  the 
young  lady.  In  fact,  so  frequent  did  they  become 
that  his  attention  to  Miss  Rowdon  was  commented 
upon  in  the  gossipy  talk  of  the  neighborhood — their 
frequency  seemed  to  have  created  the  general  impres 
sion  that  at  no  distant  day,  there  would  be  a  surrender 
— a 'grounding  of  arms,  and  a  capitulation  before 
Hymen's  altar.  These  prophecies,  however,  would 
sometimes  meet  with  a  set-back. 

Upon  being  questioned  by  special  friends  in  regard 
to  the  condition  of  the  matters,  as  between  Mr.  Munson 
and  herself,  Miss  Lunata  would  unblushingly  and  reso 
lutely  declare  there  was  no  bond  between  them,  except 
that  of  friendship,  and  would  sometimes,  with  ingeni- 
ousness,  most  emphatically  declare  that  no  votive 
offering  would  ever  be  laid  upon  Hymen's  altar  in 
which  there  would  be  a  pledge  of  her  affections  to 
Aurelius  Munson.  She  was  ready  to  acknowledge  that 
he  was  a  plain,  uneducated,  clever  farmer,  but  that  the 
characteristic  of  cleverness,  coupled  with  ignorance, 
was  something  she  could  not  appreciate.  She  said  she 
thought  his  qualifications  were  good  as  far  as  they 
went,  but  they  did  not  include  enough — that  her  heart 
demanded,  and  would  not  be  satisfied  with  less  than 
a  better  ideal  than  she  could  find  in  Mr.  Munson. 

In  these  asseverations,  Miss  Lunata  seemed  to  be 
perfectly  honest,  and  yet  her  declarations  appeared  to 
be  contradicted  by  the  continued  frequency  of  Munson's 


164  WHAT  NEXT? 

visits.  When  asked  if  the  close  and  cordial  friend 
ship  between  Aurelius  and  her  father  could  lead  to 
such  frequency  in  the  visits  of  the  latter  to  the  former, 
with  undisguised  honesty  and  outspoken  candor,  for 
which  she  was  noted,  she  would  frankly  own  that 
Munson's  visits  were  not  to  her  father,  but  to  her. 

Without  any  change  in  the  condition  of  matters 
between  Munson  and  Miss  Lunata,  a  year  had  well 
nigh  run  its  round,  and  still  with  indefatigable  persist 
ency  he  continued  his  visits,  and  when  a  little  raillery 
was  indulged  in  at  his  expense  by  his  young  friends,  as- 
would  now  and  then  be  done,  he  invariably  tried  to- 
leave  the  impression  that  the  precise  day  had  not  been 
set,  but  that  the  time  was  not  far  away  when  he  would 
lead  the  fair  Lunata  to  the  altar.  He  was  not  slow  to 
openly  avow  that  he  had  a  verbal  first  mortgage  upon 
the  hand  of  the  young  lady,  and  the  time  was  not 
over-long  till  the  foreclosure  would  take  place.  Really 
he  seemed  at  times  ready  to  scout  the  idea  of  any 
other  gentleman  calling  upon  Lunata  with  serious 
intentions. 

Backed,  as  he  thought  himself  to  be,  by  the  desire 
of  her  father.  Aurelius  began  a  course  of  pressing  his 
claims  upon  the  unwilling  ears  of  Lunata,  which  gave 
her  trouble.  With  her  wonted  exhibit  of  polite  firmness, 
she  declared,  as  she  had  declared  a  hundred  times 
before,  that  she  did  not,  and  could  not  love  him,  and 
consequently,  would  never  marry  him.  In  turn  she 
would  become  the  pleader,  and  would  beseech  him  to 
present  no  more  propositions.  She  was  willing,  she 
averred,  to  allow  his  name  to  remain  on  the  list  of  her 
friends,  but  as  a  wooer  he  must  desist,  as  she  could 
no  longer  receive  his  addresses.  She  almostimplor- 


WHAT  NEXT?  165 

ingly  begged  him  to  discontinue  his  visits,  because  they 
had  placed  her  in  an  unenviable  light  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  had  kept  other  young  men  from  visiting  her, 
whose  friendship  she  coveted,  and  whose  companion 
able  associations  she  really  desired  to  enjoy. 

This  speech  of  Miss  Lunata's  was  a  poser,  and,  in 
apparent  discdmforture,  he  retired  and  left  her  to  hold 
communion  with  her  own  thoughts.  But  there  was  so 
much  of  real,  genuine  kindness  in  her  great,  big  soul, 
that,  before  he  had  disappeared  bej'ond  her  sight,  as  she 
stood  at  the  window  and  watched  his  retreat,  she  was 
moved  to  pity  and  felt  half  disposed  to  censure  herself 
for  her  captious  declarations. 

Lunata  Rowdon  knew  that  Munson  loved  her.  His 
earnest,  but  awkward  pleadings  proved  his  devotion. 
Through  months  added  to  months,  he  had  come,  as 
though  some  magnetic  power  drew  him  into  her 
presence.  But  his  coming  was  like  the  approach  of 
similar  poles  of  an  electric  battery,  only  to  be  thrown 
apart.  Poor  fellow !  She  pitied  him,  but  she  could 
not  love  him. 


CHAPTER  VI V. 


'•How'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me, 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  jjood  : 

Kind  hearts  fire  more  tluin  coronets. 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood." 

— Tennyson. 


ATTERS  in  connection  with  the  wooing  of  Miss 
Limata  Rowdon  by  Aurelius  Munson  had  al)out 
reached  their  climax  when  John  Parsons  put  in 
an  appearance  as  the  teacher  of  the  district 
school,  as  per  agreement  between  him  and  Mr.  Watson 
at  which  time  the  general  impression  with  a  majority 
of  the  people  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Rowdon  home 
seemed  to  be  that  a  wedding  between  Miss  Lunata 
and  Munson  must  very  soon  take  place.  The 
reason  why  such  an  opinion  was  rife  in  the  minds 
of  every  one  who  ventured  an  opinion  in  regard 
to  the  outcome  of  the  suit  of  Munson,  was  the 
length  of  time  he  had  been  assiduously  pushing  his 
claims  for  her  hand.  The  knowledge,  as  indicated  by 
the  frequency  of  his  visits  to  the  young  lady 
seemed  to  warrant  such  a  conclusion. 

Parsons'  boarding-house  was  so  situated  as  to  make  it 
necessary,  in  going  to  and  from  his  school  by  the  most 
direct  route,  to  pass  immediately  in  front  of  the  Rowdon 
mansion.  On  this  account,  Parsons  had  an  opportunity 
of  noting  the  coming  and  going  of  Munson  to  Mr. 
Rowdon's;  but,  being  acquainted  with  none  of  the  lady 
members  of  the  family,  the  visits  of  Munson  to  their 
home  gave  him,  when  observed  at  all,  no  more 
concern  than  the  meeting  of  that  gentleman  on  the 
high-way. 


WHAT  NEXT?  167 

In  a  comparatively  short  career  as  a  preceptor, 
Parsons  bad  met  with  considerable  success.  An  inten 
sified  desire  to  climb  higher  in  the  scale  of  usefulness 
as  an  educator,  tended  to  close  his  ears  to  the  gossip 
and  chit-chat  of  the  district  wherein  he  had  located. 
He  had  entered  a  new  field,  and  as  an  earnest  worker 
in  his  profession  he  was  disposed,  in  a  large  measure, 
to  close  his  ears  to  any  and  ever  sort  of  neighborhood 
talk  which  he  knew  was  generally  chaffy,  and  in  no 
way,  of  interest  to  him.  From  this  fact,  the  floating 
rumor  in  regard  to  the  expected  nuptials  of  Miss  Lunata 
Rowdon  and  Aurelius  Munson  had  failed  to  attract  his 
attention.  If  the  report  which  was  generally  circulated 
had  been  called  to  his  attention,  he  might  perhaps 
have  been  able  to  remember  that  something  of  the  kind 
had  come  to  him,  through  some  source,  now  forgotten; 
thus  showing  how  \ery  little  interest  he  had  taken  in 
the  neighborhood  gossip.  If  questioned,  in  regard  to 
certain  suspicious  indications  in  regard  to  Miss 
Rowdon,  as  evidenced  by  the  frequency  with  which  a 
certain  gentleman's  horse  was  hitched  in  front  of  Mr. 
Rowdon 's  home,  he  would  probably  have  stated  that 
on  divers  occasions  he  had  seen  a  certain  kind  of  horse 
hitched  at  the  place  mentioned,  but  that  he  had  never 
thought  of  any  suspicion  being  engendered  thereby, 
not  knowing  but  that  the  owner  of  the  house  was 
likewise  the  owner  of  the  horse. 

If  told  that  his  ignorance  of  what  was  going  on 
immediately  about  him,  was  not  very  complimentary 
to  his  keenness  of  perception,  he  would  no  doubt  have 
retorted  by  declaring  himself  too  full  of  business  of 
his  own,  to  justify  his  putting  his  fingers  into  the 
business  of  other  people — that  Miss  Rowdon  was  a 


168  WHAT  NEXT? 

stranger  to 'him,  and  that  he  did  not  suppose  she  wanted 
to  employ  him  as  a  pilot  to  help  manage  the  rudder  of 
her  craft.  In  addition  he  would  have  put  in  as 
a  plea  of  justification  for  his  want  of  interest  in 
anything,  wherein  a  certain  little  deity  was  trying  his 
hand  as  a  marksman  at  a  human  heart,  that  he  was 
himself  carrying  some  wounds,  but  recently  received 
from  just  such  a  source,  and  therefore  did  not  care  to 
invade,  even  by  inquiry,  the  domain  of  the  little  meddler, 
who  had  wounded  him  and  then  went  bounding  away, 
leaving  him  with  a  wound  for  time  to  cure. 

Having  been  engaged  in  teaching  for  a  month  or  two 
in  the  new  district,  it  was  but  natural  that  a  young 
man  of  Parsons'  fine  attainments — fine  social  qualities, 
and  fine  personal  appearance  as  well,  should  have  had 
some  ambition  to  widen  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance, 
by  seeking  to  know  the  people  among  whom  he  was 
living.  It  is  true  the  ordeal  through  which  he  had  so 
recently  passed  had  made  him  feel  just  a  little  misan 
thropic  ;  still  his  philosophy  of  life  suggested  that 
nursing  grief  did  not  bring  relief,  and  for  that  reason, 
as  well  as  for  the  reason  that  he  considered  it  polite  to 
bring  himself  into  more  intimate  relationship  with 
those  in  whose  midst  he  had  found  a  home,  he  sought 
to  know  them  better. 

In  the  new  associations  into  which  Parsons  entered, 
and  among  the  new  friends  whom  he,  from  time  to 
time,  added  to  his  list,  he  could  occasionally  hear 
some  remark  made  in  regard  to  the  approaching  mar 
riage  of  Miss  Rowdon  and  Mr.  Munson,  but  John  was 
naturally  still-tongued  about  j^ny  and  everything  that 
he  thought  ought  not  to  be  made  a  matter  of  common 
talk,  and  would  therefore  listen  to  what  was  reported 


WHAT  NEXT?  169 

as  being  the  general  talk  of  the  neighborhood  busy- 
bodies,  but  was  never  known  to  act  as  a  news  monger 
by  going  into  its  retail  trade.  In  addition  to  all  this, 
Parsons  had  a  special,  a  private  reason  for  his  want  of 
interest  in  the  Rowdon  affair,  which  he  did  not  care  to 
disclose  to  any  one — a  reason  which  if  it  had  not  been 
founded  upon  a  mistake,  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
have  justified  his  perfect  indifference  in  regard  to 
anything  that  was  told  him  about  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon. 

Notwithstanding  the  perfect  indifference  with  which 
Parsons  listened  to  the  various  rumors  which  occasion 
ally  greeted  his  ears,  the  very  force  of  his  surroundings 
made  him,  after  all,  an  interested  participant  in  what 
everybody  in  that  immediate  vicinity  seemed  to  be 
interested,  and  he  too  soon  began  to  think  that  ''where 
there  was  so  much  smoke  there  must  be  some  fire." 
His  suspicions  were  aroused,  and  the  standing  of  the 
same  horse,  hitched  to  the  same  rack,  wearing  the 
same  saddle  and  occupying  the  same  place  three  or 
or  four  evenings  in  every  week  began  now  to 
•attract  his  attention.  Hitherto  no  attention  had  been 
paid  to  the  horse  or  to  the  frequency  with  which  he 
had  been  hitched  to  the  same  rack.  At  no  time  before 
the  birth  of  his  interest  could  he  have  given  legal 
testimony  in  regard  to  the  kind  or  color  of  the  horse, 
nor  could  he  have  ventured  upon  a  description  of  the 
saddle.  He  had,  until  now,  been  a  perfectly  indifferent 
spectator  as  to  any  movements  a  certain  horseman  had 
been  making  in  coming  to  and  going  from  the  Rowdon 
mansion. 

It  is  strange  how  little  it  sometimes  takes  to  work  a 
complete  revolution  in  human  purposes.  Yesterday, 
as  it  wrere,  John  Parsons  was  the  most  uninterested 


170  WHAT  NEXT? 

person  in  the  whole  section  of  country  as  to  the  issue 
of  Munson's  courtship.  Today  he  has  had  awakened 
a  desire  to  know  whether  the  frequent  coining  and 
going  of  the  young  bachelor  is  to  eventuate  in  success 
or  defeat.  Yesterday  he  was  wholly  oblivious  as  to 
what  was  being  discussed  in  regard  to  the  final  issue  of 
Munson's  suit.  Today  he  is  a  specially  earnest  listener 
to  every  character  of  information  that  may  be  afloat  in 
relation  to  the  condition  of  two  people  whom 
common  rumor  reports  to  be  suffering  from  the  same 
malady. 

There  were  conflicting  reports  in  the  various  house 
holds  of  the  country  as  to  just  how  the  matter  between 
Miss  Rowdon  and  Munson  stood,  and  each  report 
claimed  to  be  based  upon  the  very  best  creditable 
testimony.  Parsons  listened  to  those  reports  and  formed 
his  own  opinion  without  making  known  what  that 
opinion  was.  Possibly  some  little  insight  into  his 
history  might  have  furnished  a  clue  as  to  what  his 
opinion  was.  John  made  no  comments  nor  did  he 
venture  upon  a  reconcilement  of  the  conflicting  reports. 
He  knew  about  the  frequency  of  the  horse-hitching  at 
Mr.  Rowdon 's  and  of  that  fact  took  no  notice  until  by 
some  development  or  outward  show  the  impression 
seemed  to  have  been  created  that  Munson's  craft  had 
run  into  turbulent  sea  and  upon  threatening  breakers, 
after  having  had  some  very  boisterous  sailing  for  quite 
a  number  of  weeks.  But  to  all  the  talk  and  clatter  as 
to  whether  Munson  would  be  able  to  pull  himself 
through  his  trouble  or  not,  Parsons  was  not  interested. 
He  was  neither  partial  to  his  success,  nor  yet  interested 
in  the  welfare  of  the  3'oung  lady  sufficiently  to  wish 
the  outcome  might  be  in  harmony  with  her  desire. 


WHAT  NEXT?  17  i 

Parsons  may,  perhaps,  have  had  some  real,  of  sup 
posed  reason  for  being  so  whollj'  indifferent. 

Shortly  after  Parsons  had  gone  into  the  new  locality 
he  learned  through  what  he  considered  a  reliable 
source  that  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  had  formed  a  very 
unfavorable  opinion  of  him — that  she  was  prejudiced 
against  him,  and  that  her  prejudice  grew  out  of  what 
she  thought  was  unjust  treatment  of  the  teacher  who 
had  preceded  him.  She  was  of  the  opinion  that  he  had, 
by  some  undue  means,  supplanted  the  Yankee 
teacher,  and  according  to  her  well  settled  ideas  of 
justice,  his  action  was,  in  the  highest  degree,  repre 
hensible. 

Parsons,  of  course,  knew  that  Miss  Rowdon's  con 
demnation  of  him  was  unjust,  and  not  knowing  the 
character  of  the  mistreatment  upon  which  she  based 
her  charge  of  injustice,  and  not  being  acquainted 
with  the  young  lady,  and  thereby  barred  from  making 
any  explanation,  the  matter  rested  just  where  it  would 
be  sure  to  produce  a  determination  upon  the  young 
teacher,  to  stand  aloof  from  the  young  lady,  and  in  no 
event  seek  to  become  acquainted  with  her,  or  be  thrown 
in  her  company.  If,  as  he  thought,  her  prejudice  had 
been  created  alone  because  of  her  belief  that  he  had 
sought  to  rob  his  predecessor  of  his  position,  she  at  least 
he'i  ought  to  have  sought  to  know  the  facts  in 
the  case  before  forming  her  opinion.  If  she  had 
sought  to  know  why  he  was  in  the  position 
he  held,  he,  reasoned,  she  could  have  readily  ob 
tained  all  the  facts  from  her  father,  and  have 
discovered  that  his  superseding  the  teacher  who  pre 
ceded  him  was  not  a  matter  of  his  seeking,  but  was 
brought  about  by  an  application  of  the  trustees,  of  whom 


172  WHAT  NEXT? 

her  father  was  one,  that  he  would  accept  the  position, 
and  that  he  had  absolutely  refused  an  offer  from  the 
same  board  of  trustees  who  wanted  to  employ  him  the 
year  previous. 

Miss  Rowdon,  as  Parsons  had  been  informed,  was  a 
young  lady  whose  sense  of  well  defined  justice  was 
one  of  her  commendatory  characteristics,  and  although 
he  was  satisfied  that  she  was  laboring  under  a  mistake, 
which,  when  corrected,  would  have  her  recant  any 
adverse  criticism  which  she  might  have  made  concern 
ing  him,  he  could  not,  under  the  surroundings,  see  any 
way  of  correcting  her  error. 

The  severity  of  Miss  Rowdon's  criticism  Parsona^vas 
satisfied  did  not  grow  out  of  the  fact  that  she  had  any 
previous  grievance  against  him,  inasmuch  as  she  had 
no  personal  acquaintance  with  him.  She  knew  the 
preceptor  when  she  saw  him,  but  nothing  more.  Her 
idea,  as  before  expressed,  and  now  repeated  for  emphasis, 
was  that  he  had  sought  the  situation,  ousted  the 
Eastern  incumbent,  and  thus  wronged  an  innocent 
man.  By  and  by  some  one  informed  the  young  lady 
of  her  mistake,  and  when  she  became  apprised  of  the 
facts  and  learned  that  instead  of  Parsons  having 
sought  the  situation,  the  situation  had  sought  him, 
her  sense  of  injured  justice  was  appeased,  and  not 
knowing  that  her  accusation  had  become  known  to  any 
one  except  to  one  or  two  of  her  intimates,  no  correc 
tion  came  to  Parsons'  ears,  and  hence  he  remained  piqued 
over  her  charge. 

The  even  tenor  of  his  way  was  pursued  by  the  young 
teacher.  He  took  no  special  interest  in  what  was  to 
be  the  out-come  of  the  now  romantic  affair  which  was 
being  wrought  out  in  the  Rowdon  home.  But, 


WHAT  NEXT?  173 

while  he  exhibited  no  interest  in  an  affair  which  had 
become  one  about  which  there  was  so  much  speculation, 
he  did  not,  by  any  means,  close  his  ears  to  the  prating 
and  speculating  concerning  the  coming  marriage,  nor 
close  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  same  horse  was  seen 
several  days  in  every  week  hitched  to  the  rack  in  front 
of  the  Rowdon's,  and  with  impatience,  waiting  for  a 
more  impatient  rider. 

Weighing  the  circumstances  that  were  connected 
with  the  proposed  Munson  marriage,  as  they  appeared 
to  Parsons ;  he  was  led  to  believe  that  the  reason  there 
were  so  many  conflicting  reports  and  antagonizing  stories 
in  regard  to  it,  came  from  the  constantly  affirmed 
declaration  by  Miss  Rowdon  that  she  never  intended, 
come  wrhat  might,  to  tie  herself  to  a  man  for  whom  she 
had  lost  almost  every  semblance  of  respect ;  while  on 
the  other  hand,  Munson  was  constantly  laboring  to 
create  the  impression  that  the  prize  was  his.  Coupling 
these  facts  together,  Parsons  was  just  a  little  suspicious 
that  if  the  young  lady  was  as  plucky  as  she  was 
reputed  to  be,  she  would  openly  rebel  against  any 
usurpation  of  power  which  might  seek  to  make  of  her 
a  living  sacrifice. 

It  had  been  reported,  time  and  again,  that  Miss 
Rowdon  had  put  her  best  wits  to  work,  in  an  effort  to 
extricate  herself  from  her  unpleasant  environments. 
Again  this  had  been  denied,  and  it  had  been  strenu 
ously  declared  that  the  reports  of  her  dissatisfaction 
with  the  attentions  of  Mr.  Munson  were  all  idle  and 
untrue.  One  person  would  assert  that  the  jubilant 
countenance  which  Munson  wore,  ?fter  a  very  recent 
visit  to  his  lady-love,  furnished  unmistakable  testimony 
of  an  ease  of  conscience  and  the  indwelling  of  an 


174  WHAT  NEXT? 

amount  of  hope,  that  would  make  incredulity  ashamed. 
Another  person,  equally  confident,  would  assert  that  it 
was  only  the  love  and  respect  Miss  Rowdon  had  for  her 
father  that  led  her  to  treat  Munson  with  even  cold  and 
distant  courtesy. 

Thus  back  and  forth  went  the  bandying  of  opinions, 
about  these  contradictory  statements  until  the  very  ears 
of  the  people  in  the  midst  of  whom  these  young  people 
lived,  were  surfeited  with  inconsistent  and  discordant 
reports. 

Parsons  took  no  stock  in  any  of  these  rumors.  He 
listened  to  them  but  made  no  comments.  He  did  not 
feel  a  sufficient  amount  of  interest  in  Miss  Rowdon 
to  venture  an  opinion  in  regard  to  where,  or  in  whose 
keeping  she  would  finally  land.  "Miss  Lunata  may  poss 
ibly  dislike  Munson,  for  aught  I  know,  but  why  should 
I  care,"  reasoned  John  Parsons;  "she  dislikes  me  as  well, 
and  he  and  I  are  in  the  same  boat,  so  far  as  that  is 
concerned.  He  has  been  handling  the  oars  and  trying 
to  land  that  craft  for  a  long,  long  time.  They  have  not 
been  in  my  hands,  and  of  course  never  will  be , 
but,  should  I  ever  undertake  to  row  the  kind  of  craft 
he  has  been  trying  to  steer,  I  think  the  sea 'of  uncer 
tainty  would  be  sooner  crossed  or  my  oars  smashed 
into  tooth-picks." 

The  large  business  interests  of  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon 
made  it  necessary  for  him  occasionally  to  be  away 
from  home  for  a  night,  and  when  such  was  the  case,  in 
order  that  his  children  might  be  better  protected,  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  requesting  some  one  or  more  of 
the  Watson  family  to  come  over  and  be  company  for 
his  children  during  his  absence.  The  homes  of  the 
two  families  were  not  more  than  half  a  mile  apart, 


WHAT  NEXT?  175 

and  whenever  one  of  these  periodic  requests  would 
come  from  Mr.  Rowdon  it  generally  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Miss  Lena  Watson  and  one  of  her  grown  brothers  to 
act  as  a  body-guard  for  the  children  of  the  Rowdon 
family  during  their  father's  absence. 

Parsons  had  been  engaged  in  the  work  of  conducting 
his  new  school  for  only  a  few  weeks  when  some  of  the 
younger  sisters  of  Miss  Lunata,  who  were  attending  his 
school,  extended  to  him,  on  several  occasions,  rather 
pressing  invitations  to  make  their  father's  family  a  visit. 
These  invitations,  as  often  as  they  were  made,  were 
politely  declined.  At  first  one  plea  and  then  another 
would  be  offered  for  their  non-acceptance,  studying,  ^n 
each  case,  to  make  the  excuse  given  as  plausible  as 
possible.  The  real  reason  for  declining  to  accept  the 
invitation,  was,  however,  studiously  withheld. 

Weeks  added  themselves  into  months,  and  still 
although  Parsons  passed  every  day  within  a  few  rods 
of  the  front  of  the  Rowdon  home,  he  had  never  made 
its  inmates  a  visit  nor  had  he  met  Miss  Lunata. 

A  good  part  of  the  first  term  of  Parsons'  annual 
session  had  passed,  when,  as  he  was  making  his  way  one 
evening  to  his  boarding-house,  he  met  young  Duncan 
Watson,  after  having  passed  a  few  hundred  yards 
beyond  the  Rowdon  home.  When  the  two  met, 
Duncan  first  requested,  and  then  insisted  that  Parsons 
should  face  to  the  right-about  and  go  with  him  and  his 
sister  to  spend  the  night  with  the  Rowdons.  Without 
offering  any  special  reason  for  not  wishing  to  comply 
with  his  request,  Parsons  simply  asked  to  be  excused 
and  passed  on  up  the  road.  He  had  not  proceeded  far 
when  he  met  Miss  Lena  Watson  on  horseback.  She  had 
chosen  this  method  of  making  her  way,  rather  than  to 


176  WHAT  NEXT? 

accompany  her  brother,  that  thereby  she  might  avoid 
the  dust  on  the  roadway.  Miss  Lena,  in  turn,  expressed 
the  desire  to  have  Mr.  Parsons  accompany  her  and 
make  the  Rowdons  his  first  visit  under  her  lead.  She 
claimed  she  believed  herself  capable  of  making  a  first- 
class  chaperon  and  offered  to  guarantee  him  a  very 
pleasant  evening. 

Parsons  very  politely  declined  the  invitation  of  Miss 
Lena  also,  and  when  she  pressed  her  wish  upon  him, 
he  told  her  that  he  was  in  his  every-day  working  attire, 
and  that  such  habiliments  worn  into  the  presence  of  a 
strange  young  lady  would  not  only  be  uncompli 
mentary  to  her  as  a  hostess,  but  would  also  show  a 
lack  of  gentility  on  his  part.  Miss  Lena  did  not  think 
his  excuse  at  all  plausible,  and  still  insisted  on  his 
going  back  with  her.  She  told  him  that  even  his 
every  day  working  attire  was  always  so  fastidiously 
neat,  that  he  need  never  offer  that  as  an  objection  to 
making  an  entry  into  any  society.  Besides,  she  told 
him  she  thought  it  not  at  all  improbable  that  when 
Miss  Lunata  found  that  he  had  been  grabbed  up  in  the 
highway,  and  brought  into  her  presence  without  the 
opportunity  of  even  brushing  his  hair,  she  would  not 
be  disposed  to  be  severe  in  her  criticism.  She  still 
more  strenuously  insisted  upon  his  going,  and  assured 
him  that  he  could  not  but  be  delighted  with  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon. 

Hitherto,  whenever  the  name  of  Miss  Rowdon  had 
been  mentioned  in  his  presence  by  Miss  Watson, 
Parsons  had  studiously  avoided  even  intimating  that 
anything  had  ever  been  said  by  Miss  Lunata,  which 
was  in  any  way  offensive  to  him.  But  the  time  had 
come,  he  thought,  and  that  he  might  offer  a  reason 


WHAT  NEXT?  177 

that  would  be  satisfactory  to  Miss  Lena  for  declining  to 
accompany  her  as  she  had  requested,  he  carefully 
explained  that  his  persistent  refusal  to  comply 
with  her  request  was  in  consequence  of  some  very 
severe  strictures  in  which  Miss  Rowdon  had  indulged 
with  regard  to  himself,  upon  learning  that  he  had  been 
employed  to  teach  their  neighborhood  school.  I  will 
not  give  you  the  remarks  she  is  reported  to  have  made, 
nor  will  I  indulge  in  any  expression  of  censure  because 
of  what  she  said.  It  is  sufficient  for  my  present  pur 
pose  that  you  know  her  remarks  were  of  such  import 
as  to  bar  me  from  her  presence,  and  this  being  true,  I 
am  sure  you  will  not  further  insist  upon  my  making 
the  Rowdons  a  visit  with  you  as  my  chaperon." 

There  was  an  expression  of  impatient  eagerness  in 
the  countenance  of  Miss  Watson  while  Parsons  was 
running  his  last  sentence  to  a  close,  and  she  at  once 
remarked  that  she  had  not  before  known  that  what 
Lunata  had  said  in  regard  to  his  supercedingthe  former 
teacher  had  reached  his  ears,  and  that  she  was  more 
than  glad  that  the  revelation  had  been  made.  It  at 
least  furnished  her,  she  said,  with  an  opportunity  of 
disabusing  his  mind  in  regard  to  Miss  Rowdon's  dis 
liking  him. 

In  a  conversation  which  Miss  Watson  stated  she  had 
recently  had  with  Miss  Rowdon,  the  latter  had 
remarked  with  some  earnestness  and  a  little  show  of 
feeling,  just  why  she  had  indulged  in  the  words  of 
censure  which  had  escaped  her  lips.  Having  discov 
ered  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  she  said  she  would 
have  been  glad  to  have  taken  back  all  she  had  said, 
and  to  have  apologized  for  her  suspicions,  could  she 

WHAT  NEXT? — 12. 


178  WHAT  NEXT? 

have  done  so.  Miss  Watson  further  remarked  that  the 
young  lady  had  made  a  full  and  complete  disavowal  of 
any  intention  whatever  of  doing  injustice  to  the  object 
of  her  criticism,  or  of  treasuring  any  ill  feeling  towards 
him.  She  stated  that  no  one  could  have  more  regret  than 
she,  that  under  a  mistaken  impression  she  should  have 
dropped  any  remark  which  was  unjust  to  Mr.  Parsons. 
While  what  she  said,  in  the  way  of  censure,  was  not 
intended  to  be  considered  a  secret,  to  be  kept  from  his 
ears,  but  rather  intended  as  an  animadversion  upon 
the  conduct  of  the  trustees  of  the  school,  some  one 
had  carried  her  censure  to  his  ears,  and  he  had  become 
offended. 

That  her  supposition  in  regard  to  the  effect  her 
remarks  had  made  upon  the  young  teacher  was  correct, 
she  thought  was  amply  proven  by  his  apparent  aliena 
tion  from  her  family,  and  probable  dislike  to  her.  Her 
3'ounger  sisters,  she  stated,  who  seemed  to  have  become 
very  fond  of  you  as  a  preceptor,  had  often  invited 
you  to  make  their  family  a  visit,  only  to  have  their 
invitations  politely  declined. 

Under  the  circumstances,  and  with  the  avowment 
which  Miss  Rowdon  had  made,  Miss  Watson  told 
Parsons  she  thought  it  would  be  injustice  to  the  young 
lady  as  well  as  to  himself,  to  any  longer  cherish  a 
spark  of  dislike  to  one  possessing  as  much  to  love,  as 
does  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon. 

Miss  Watson  again  urged  an  acquiscence  with  her 
request,  insisting  that  an  acquaintance  with  the  young 
lady — an'evening  of  real  enjoyment  in  her  company — 
a  night's  rest  under  the  Rowdon  roof,  would  com 
pensate  for  the  trouble  he  had  experienced  over  a 
misinterpretation  of  what  he  had  done. 


WHAT  NEXT?  179 

Reflecting  over  the  matter  but  for  a  moment,  and 
turning  the  repeated  avowment  over  in  his  mind,  he 
determined  that  no  young  lady  should  lay  the  sin  of 
injustice  at  his  door  without  his  making  a  manly  effort 
to  remove  it,  and  he  so  informed  Miss  Watson.  With 
an  about-face  he  indicated  his  readiness  to  accompany 
her,  and  the  two  started  for  the  Rowdon  mansion. 

As  Parsons  walked  along  by  the  side  of  the  pony 
upon  which  Miss  Watson  was  riding,  he  fell  into  a 
momentary  revery,  and  in  that  moment  there  came 
crowding  through  his  memory  the  incidents  of  the  year 
just  passed,  and  with  the  passing  of  which  there  were 
some  stirring  incidents  that  had  occurred  in  his  own 
history,  and  some  strange  speculations  with  regard  to 
what  was  transpiring  in  the  life  of  the  young  lady  he 
was  so  soon  to  meet. 

When  the  stiles  in  front  of  the  house  had  been 
reached  and  Parsons  had  assisted  Miss  Watson  to 
alight,  the  two  approached  the  house,  and  when  the 
veranda  had  been  reached  Miss  Watson  stepped  to  the 
door  and  knocked.  Inst'ead  of  a  servants'  responding,  a 
young  lady,  in  the  bloom  of  beautiful  womanhood,  open 
ed  the  door;  and  after  greeting  Miss  Watson  with  one  of 
the  brighest  of  faces  and  sweetest  of  smiles,  she 
received  an  introduction  to  Mr.  Parsons. 

As  the  young  lady  stood  in  the  door  for  a  moment,  a 
rapid  glance  was  all  that  could  be  obtained  of  that 
picture.  John's  mind,  however,  was  an  active  one; 
and,  unlocking  the  store  house  of  memory,  he  therein 
quickly  hung  in  its  most  sacred  cloister,  a  mental 
photograph  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  as  she  then  and 
there  appeared.  As  the  young  lady  thus  stood,  she 
impressed  Parsons  as  being  an  unusually  handsome 


180  WHAT  NEXT? 

young  lady.  She  was  dressed  in  her  home  attire — 
well-fitting  and  faultlessly  neat.  The  snowy  whiteness 
of  a  short  apron  she  wore,  John  considered  an  ornament 
which  attested  the  worth  of  the  young  lady  in  filling 
the  position  which  she  held;  while  the  keys  at  her  side 
bespoke  her  at  once  the  queen  regent  of  the  pantry  no 
less  than  the  parlor. 

The  visitors  were  invited  into  the  library,  and  upon 
being  seated,  Miss  Lunata  apologized,  amid  her  blushes,, 
for  her  appearance,  stating  that  "she  was  expecting 
Miss  Lena,  but  did  not  think  of  her  bringing  with  her 
one  who,  though  a  stranger,  ought  hardh*  to  be  con 
sidered  such.  Had  I  been  apprised  just  a  little  sooner 
of  your  coming,  Prof.  Parsons,  I  would  have  made  some 
further  appeal  to  my  wardrobe." 

"Indeed,  I  cannot  claim  any  advantage  of  you," 
said  Parsons,  "for  I,  too,  am  here,  in  no  holiday  dress. 
I  met  Miss  Watson  on  my  way  from  school,  and  she 
insisted  upon  my  returning  with  her  to  make  you  a  visit. 
She  would  not  listen  to  my  seeking  to  be  excused,  upon 
the  ground  of  not  being  sufficient!}7  well  dressed  to 
make  my  appearance  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  nor 
would  she  listen  to  my  plea,  that  my  uncomely  attire 
was  a  sufficient  reason  for  declining  her  invitation.  So 
we  are,  I  suppose,  in  this  particular,  upon  an  equal 
footing,  and  I  therefore  move  you,  Miss  Rowdon,  that 
apologies  be  declared  out  of  order." 

"As  to  my  being  a  stranger,  with  the  doubtful 
imputation  which  you  append,  you  will  allow  me  to 
state  further,  that  while  you  may  be  right  in  your  half- 
concealed  allusion[to  my  want  of  sociability,  now,  that 
the  ice  has  been  broken,  and  the  coast  cleared  of 
seeming  obstruction,  with  your  permission,  I  will  try 


WHAT  NEXT?  181 

to  make  amends  for  past  indifference  and  apparent 
neglect.  Allow  me,  therefore,  please,  the  privilege  of 
recording  myself  as  not  only  an  acquaintance,  but  as 
one  among  your  numerous  friends." 

"You  have  my  permission  to  be  so  recorded,  Mr. 
Parsons,"  said  Miss  Lunata,  "and  on  my  own  account, 
I  am  disposed  to  regret  that  you  should  have  post 
poned  to  so  late  a  date  your  petition  to  be  allowed  a 
privilege  which,  as  an  act  of  kindness,  I  could  not 
have  withheld." 

"Had  I  known,  Miss  Rowdon.  months  ago  what  I 
have  learned  only  today  through  the  kindness  of  your 
considerate  and  enthusiastic  friend,  Miss  Watson,  I 
would  not  now  be  left  to  deplore  the  loss  of  an  addi 
tional  cup  of  joy  of  which  cruel  circumstances  have 
robbed  me  ever  since  I  made  my  advent  into  your 
locality." 

"All    is  well  that  ends  well,' "  said  Miss  Rowdon, 

"and  now  that  all  clouds  are  removed  that  prevented 

our  seeing    and    knowing  each    other,  as  of  right  we 

ought,  I  hope  the  pleasure  of  our  future  meetings  will 

not  be  marred  by  misunderstanding  of  any  kind.  I  am 

glad  indeed  to  know  you,  Mr.  Parsons — glad  to  know 

you  are    succeeding  so  satisfactorily  with  your  school, 

and    am    delighted    with    the    impression    my   young 

sisters  seem  to  have  of  you  as  their  teacher.  There  has 

been  so  much  dissatisfaction  with  those  who  have  had 

control  of  our  school  for  the  last  year  or  two,  that  when 

the    session    of    one    teacher    would    close,    in    some 

anxiety  I  have  been  disposed  to  wonder — What  Next!" 

There   was  something  half  startling  in  hearing  Miss 

Rowdon  close  up  her  well-rounded  sentence  with  a  half 

asked  question  which,  such  as  through  almost  every  day 


182  WHAT  NEXT? 

of  his  recent  life  had  been  his  watch-word.  Why  was  this 
so  ?  Could  there  be  any  interchange  of  the  spiritual, 
as  between  Miss  Rowdon  and  himself?  Had  she 
caught  up  and  translated  the  thought  that  was  in  his 
mind  before[it  could  find  utterance?  Was  there  any 
transmutation  of  soul  essence  whereby  what  was  in  the 
sanctum-sanctorum  of  her  own  being  answered  to  that 
which  was  in  his  ? 

Parsons  was  puzzled.  There  were  numerous  questions 
which  went  trooping  through  his  mind,  but  he  essaj'ed  to 
answer  none  of  them.  They  had  found  a  lodgment, 
however,  to  be  wrestled  with  in  his  quiet,  meditative 
hours. 

Not  willing  to  appear  to  a  disadvantage  by  seeming 
inattention  to  her  question,  he  jocularly  remarked  that 
he -supposed  an  answer  to  her  "What  Next"  might  be 
found  in  the  supposed  approaching  nuptials  of  some 
of  the  young  people  in  that  part  of  the  county.  He 
remarked  that  the  field,  as  he  viewed  it,  was  a  fair 
one,  and  why  some  of  the  handsome  girls  of  the 
neighborhood  did  not  invoke  the  aid  of  Venus  as 
priestess  to  Hymen's  altar,  was  something  he  could  not 
understand.  Nor  could  he  understand  why  some  of 
the  handsome  and  sprightly  young  ladies  in  the  vicinity 
did  not  capture  and  hold  some  of  the  nice  3Toung  men 
in  a  love-thrall.  It  is  more  than  I  can  fully  account 
for,  why  Mercury,  that  prince  of  mythological  thieves, 
does  not  take  some  of  these  young  men  under  private 
training  and  teach  them  how  to  steal  a  wife,  provided 
one  can  not  be  obtained  otherwise." 

"You  seem  to  be  quite  well  posted,  Mr.  Parsons, 
upon  the  subject  of  matrimony,  or  at  least  upon  the 
method  of  securing  a  spouse.  Perhaps  you  might  give 


WHAT  XEXT?  183 

us  some  edifying  answer  as  to  the  reason  why  you  have 
so  far  escaped  the  noose  you  know  so  much  about 
putting  upon  others,"  said  Miss  Lunata. 

"My  reasons,  Miss  Lunata,  for  not  entering  upon 
the  sacred  relations  referred  to  are  potent,  and  two 
fold.  In  the  first  place,  'I  am  over  young  to  marry 
yet,'  as  the  song  goes.  In  the  second  place,  I  think  it 
would  be  exceedingly  difficult  to  find  a  young  lady 
with  sufficient  pluck  to  start  with  me  up  the  hill  of 
matrimonial  life,  with  nothing  to  aid  me  up  its  steeps 
and  over  its  crags  except  a  willing  heart — a  confiding 
trust  in  ultimate  success — a  large  share  of  pluck  and 
energy,  and  a  will  that  can  brook  defeat  and  rise 
superior  to  ill  luck.  Such  a  woman  would  hardly 
want  to  start  out  upon  a  matrimonial  venture  with  so 
much  room  for  experiment,"  said  Parsons.  "Any  woman 
who  was  equipped  with  all  these  qualifications  would 
deserve  something  better  than  an  outlook  for  experi 
ment  only." 

Miss  Watson  here  entered  into  the  colloquy,  and 
taking  the  rejoinder  from  the  hands  of  Miss  Rowdon, 
remarked  that  "such  an  equipment  for  a  matrimo 
nial  journey  as  his  inventory  called  for,  would  at  least 
be  compounded  of  a  larger  share  of  poetry  than  of 
prose." 

"True,"  said  Parsons,"  and  I  presume  equally  true, 
that  the  poetry  of  life  is  not  as  good  for  a  constant 
diet  as  is  the  prose.  For  this  reason,  I  would  be  ex 
ceedingly  careful  in  offering  to  any  young  lady  only 
the  poetry  of  a  married  life.  Life-poetry  is  an  essential 
element  in  giving  true  color,  finish  and  beauty  to  the 
prose  of  human  existence,  and  while  no  one,  nor  yet 
all  of  these  ornaments  can  be  relied  upon  as  a  basis  for 


184  WHAT  NEXT? 

happiness,  they  are  at  least  the  garniture — the  orna 
mental  trappings — the  esthetic  that  lives  in  the 
human  soul." 

"  I  think  your  philosophy  in  regard  to  living  in 
a  gross  sense,  and  living  by  contrast  in  a  double  sense, 
in  which  the  gross  is  the  absolutely  essential  or  basic 
principle  of  human  existence  is  correct.  At  the  same 
time  the  finer  attributes  of  the  human  soul  constitute 
the  poetry  and  music  thereof." 

At  this  juncture  supper  was  announced,  and  the 
party  repaired  to  the  dining  apartment,  where  they 
partook  of  a  most  excellent  repast,  the  cuisine  being  a 
work  of  art,  in  which  the  cooks  of  the  Rowdon  home 
were  par  excellence. 

The  adorning  feature  of  the  dining  ceremony,  how 
ever,  was  the  grace,  elegance  and  dignitj'  with  which 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  presided  in  that  department.  No 
wonder,  thought  Parsons,  that  the  horse  of  Aurelius 
Munson  should  be  seen  hitched  so  many  days  in  the 
year,  and  so  manj7  hours  during  these  days  in  front  of 
Mr.  Rowdon's  home.  Parsons  turned  apologist  for 
Munson,  and  was  inclined  to  justify  him  for  his  per 
sistent  horse  hitching  in  front  of  the  house  where  his 
heart  found  some  comfort,  although  the  house  was  not 
over-freighted  with  devotion  for  either  Mr.  Munson  or 
his  affections.  The  prize  is  certainly  worth  the 
winning,  thought  Parsons.  The  throw  of  the  dice  that 
gains  the  hand  of  Lunata  Rowdon  will  place  in  the 
keeping  of  the  winner  a  prize  of  inestimable  value — a 
gem  that  wealth  could  not  buy.  Munson  knows  this, 
and  knowing  it,  plays  his  hand  with  a  persistency  that 
shows  the  pluck  and  determination  of  the  man. 
Who  blames  him  if  Miss  Lunata  does  not  ? 


WHAT  NEXT?  185 

Such  was  a  part  of  the  mental  soliloquy  that  ran 
through  the  mind  of  Parsons  as  he  sat  at  the  bountiful 
•board  over  which  Miss  Rowdon  presided. 

After  the  supper  had  been  enjoyed  to  the  full  extent 
Miss  Lunata  and  her  guests  repaired  to  the  parlor,  and  a 
most  delightful  evening  was  spent  in  conversation  by 
the  trio.  In  this  evening  talk,  as  is  generally  the  case 
under  such  circumstances,  everything  was  canvassed 
that  was  being  talked  of  in  the  whole  region,  and  not 
till  the  clock  indicated  that  there  was  an  infringe 
ment  being  made  upon  the  hours  of  rest  did  the  lively 
conversation  cease.  A  servant  was  then  summoned, 
ivho  lighted  Mr.  Parsons  and  Mr.  Watson  to  a  room  in 
which  to  rest  for  the  night.  Watson  slept  like  a  trout, 
but  the  dreams  of  Parsons  were  disturbed.  A  vision 
of  brightness  and  beauty  danced  in  Tantalian  vexation 
before  him — alluring  him  with  its  loveliness,  but  keep 
ing  ever  without  his  -reach. 

On  the  following  morning  Miss  Watson  announced 
her  intention  to  Mr.  Parsons  of  spending  the  day  with 
Miss  Lunata.  It  was  Saturday,  and  being  a  day  of 
rest  for  Parsons,  Miss  Lena  insisted  upon  his  spending 
a  part  of  the  da}*  with  them.  This  suggestion  Miss 
Lunata  seconded,  saj'ing  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to 
her  to  have  him  spend  as  much  of  the  day  as  he  felt 
disposed  to  devote  to  their  company.  Besides,  she 
told  him  that  she  knew  of  no  better  way,  nor  any 
better  time,  to  make  amends  for  depriving  her  for  so 
long,  of  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance.  Parsons 
having  accepted  the  invitation  so  pleasantly  and  grace 
fully  extended,  bade  the  young  ladies  a  court!}'  adieu 
lor  tlie  morning,  promising  to  return  in  the  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"To  say  he  lov'cl 

Was  to  affirm  what  oft  his  eyes  avouch'd 
What  many  an  action  testified  and  yet, 
What  wanted  confirmation  of  his  tongue  " 

— Knowls. 

¥|N  the  "days  lang  syne"  there  was  an  open-handed 
•  <•  hospitality  which  was  a  distinguishing  feature  of  the 

I  people  of  Kentucky.  The  hospitality  then  exhibited 
gave  to  the  enjoyment  of  society  a  zest  and  unstilted 
freedom  which  warmed  the  heart  of  every  visitor.  The 
cold  formality  of  the  present  fashionable  world  had  not 
made,  in  that  far-away  time,  its  chilly  and  murderous 
onslaught  upon  the  good  breeding  of  a  fine  citizenship 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  rob  life  of  one  half  its  real 
delights.  Heart- warm  friendships  in  those  days  wore 
no  strait-jackets.  Conviviality  was  indulged  in  which 
was  neither  boisterous  nor  quakerish.  Hand-shaking 
was  not  a  soulless  show,  but  indicated  that  a  heart  was 
in  proximity  to  this  act  of  palmistry — that  even  if  there 
were  no  divination  in  the  performance,  there  was,  at  least, 
no  fashionable  frigidity.  Fops  as  well  as  fools  seem 
to  have  flourished  in  the  days  of  our  grand-fathers,  but 
the  dude  had  not  made  his  entree  in  their  time.  He  is 
the  product  of  a  much  later  day — the  development  of  a 
more  recent  civilization. 

*;•  Mr.  Rowdon's  family  was  reared  in  the  midst  of  the 
greatest  abundance  of  everything  that  could  contribute 
to  their  comfort,  but  his  children  were  taught  lessons  of 
frugality,  while  in  the  midst  of  affluence. 

On  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Parsons'  recent  visit  there 
was  no  special  effort  made  at  display  in  any  particular. 
Although  Parsons  considered  the  cuisine  so  very  good,  the 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  187 

fare,  while  he  tarried  with  the  family,  was  scarcely  any 
more  elaborate  than  would  be  found  upon  that  table,  and 
in  which  the  passing  stranger,  who  called  just  at  meal 
time,  would  have  been  invited  to  participate  in.  While 
Parsons  was  well  satisfied  with  what  was  spread  before 
him  to  eat,  he  was  better  satisfied  with  her  who 
made  each  meal  more  relished  by  her  presence,  and 
who  had  been  so  great  a  personal  contributor  to  his  en 
joyment.  Even  when  his  visit  had  been  finished  and 
he  was  bowing  himself  out  of  her  presence  he  felt  that 
the  time  of  his  stay  had  been  far  too  short,  and  there 
fore  reluctantly  bade  the  young  ladies  adieu. 

Enthusiastic  admiration  for  anything  with  which  John 
Parsons  was  well  pleased,  was  a  feature  of  his  charac 
ter,  and  for  that  reason  it  was  only  a  peculiarity  of  his 
that  he  should  have  been  half  sorry  to  be  separated 
from  the  young  ladies  for  even  a  few  hours,  although  he 
knew  that  the  acceptance  of  the  dual  invitation  would 
soon  bring  him  again  into  their  presence. 

Upon  leaving  the  young  ladies  in  the  forenoon, 
Parsons  went  at  once  to  his  room  in  the  Watson  home. 
Having  seated  himself  in  an  easy  study-chair,  he  fell 
into  a  train  of  reflection  which  was  a  compound  of 
belief  and  speculation.  How  he  longed  for  the  gift  of 
prophetic  vision  sufficient  to  take  a  peep  into  the 
curtained  future.  How  he  would  have  been  pleased  to 
discover  what  the  answer  would  be  to  her  semi-question, 
which  came  from  her  lips  like  an  echo  springing  from  the 
depths  of  his  own  soul.  The  question,  half  audibly 
pronounced  by  her,  came  with  more  potency  than  it 
had  ever  had,  when  uttered  by  himself.  The  "What 
Next"  which  she  had  whispered,  and  which  had 
aroused  the  anxiety  of  Parsons,  was,  as  to  whether 


188  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

that  half  articulated  query  had  any  connection,  either 
present  or  future,  with  the  finality  which  was  next  to 
be  written  as  an  end  to  Miss  Lunata's  maiden  life. 

Parsons  had  become  a  competent  witness  as  to  the 
kind  and  color  of  the  horse  that  made  his  frequent 
periodic  stops  in  front  of  the  Rowdon  place.  Without 
any  studied  effort,  he  could  have  given  a  description 
of  just  how  that  horse  was  caparisoned.  He  had  grown 
to  be  a  more  interested  spectator,  and  hence  had 
noticed  carefully  [that,  which  for  a  time,  had  failed  to 
attract  his  attention. 

The  horse  had  for  so  long  a  time,  and  frequently 
made  Mr.  Rowdon's  his  halting  place,  that  he  began 
to  be  recognized  as  an  old  time  visitor.  Passers-by 
ceased  to  make  any  comments  concerning  Munson's 
visits.  Gossip  suspended  its  querulous  prophecies. 
Curiosity  hushed  its  suspicions,  and  there  came  a  lull 
in  the  discussions  with  reference  to  the  ultimate  out 
come  of  Munson's  uncompromising  persistency  in  his 
suit. 

In  the  character  of  Parsons'  meditations,  as  unfolded 
to  a  special  friend,  it  was  easy  to  discover,  that  while 
the  neighbors  and  acquaintances  of  the  parties  in 
interest  had  grown  indifferent  to  what  all  concluded 
could  end  in  but  one  way,  Parsons  was  not  altogether 
satisfied  with  this  almost  universal  verdict.  Knowing 
there  was  "many  a  slip  'twixt  cup  and  lip,"  he  became 
a  more  interested  onlooker  than  any  of  the  wiseacres 
who  carried  written  verdicts  in  their  hats. 

As  the  result  of  John  Parsons'  visit  of  the  day  before 
there  was  aroused  in  his  mind  a  soul-stirring  war  of 
wild,  unsettled,  and  conflicting  emotions;  and  yet,  had 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  189 

he  been  told  that  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  had  captured 
him — that  his  every  act,  while  in  her  presence,  and  his 
quiet,  contemplative,  and  listless  mood  since  leaving 
her,  could  not  be  interpreted  in  any  other  light  than 
an  indication  of  a  heart  ill  at  ease,  he  would  have 
made  reply,  by  saying  that  it  would  be  something  to- 
be  wondered  at,  to  find  him  either  captured,  or  thrown 
into  a  state  of  excitement  over  an  affair  in  which  he 
could  in  no  way  become  an  interested  participator. 
"Pardon  me,  please,"  said  he.  "If  this  heart  is  inter 
ested  in  the  question  to  which  you  allude,  it  had  just  as- 
well  beat  its  tattoo,  and  retire  from  the  further  discussion 
of  this  question.  The  young  lady  is  as  handsome  as 
Hebe,  and  might  rightly  discharge  the  duties  of  that 
dignitary.  But.  even  were  I  to  confess  judgment  when 
accused  of  being  captivated  by  so  handsome  and 
graceful  a  woman,  I  would  be  pardonable  for  exhibit 
ing  the  weakness  of  my  sex  in  not  resisting  the 
influence  of  a  good  and  true  woman.  Upon  the 
person  of  the  young  lady  in  question,  with  all 
her  charms,  there  had  been  placed  a  mortgage,  and 
it  is  not,  and  cannot  be  made  the  province  of  my 
hands  to  either  lift  or  foreclose  that  mortgage." 

But  lightly  as  Parsons  seemed  disposed  to  treat  the 
subject  of  Munson's  persistency  in  trying  to  create  a 
higher  opinion,  in  the  mind  of  Miss  Rowdon.  of  his 
worth  and  depth  of  devotion — lightly  and  cavalierly  as 
he  treated  the  insinuation  that  he  had  become  half 
ensnared  by  the  same  web  that  had  kept  Munson 
floundering  around  in  uncertainty,  he  could  not  banish 
the  consideration  of  the  question  as  to  the  ultimate  issue 
of  the  courtship  between  Aurelius  and  Miss  Lunata. 
The  subject  would  not  be  banished  at  his  bidding,  for 


190  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

he  had  become  impressed  with  the  idea  that  there 
must  be  something  higher  and  holier  between  these 
people  than  mere  friendship.  He  knew  that  the  young 
lady  had  most  resolutely  declared  to  her  most  intimate 
associates,  that  there  was  no  other  sentiment  in  her  mind 
towards  Mr.  Munson  than  friendship,  and  that  even  her 
friendship  for  him  was  not  the  outgrowth  of  anything 
attractive  in  the  man,  but  rather  to  gratify  a  whim  of 
her  father.  But  despite  the  oft  repeated  avowal  in 
which  the  young  lady  so  stoutly  maintained  that  she 
was  not,  nor  had  ever  been  an  admirer,  much  less  a 
lover  of  Munson,  Parsons  could  not  reconcile  her 
declarations  with  the  length  of  time  the  young  man 
had  been  visiting  her,  through  the  greater  part  of  which 
time  he  had  assumed  to  be  her  accepted  suitor,  nor 
could  he  reconcile  her  statements  with  the  fact  that 
the  repeated  assumption  of  those  who  professed  to 
have  been  informed  in  regard  to  how  matters  stood 
between  wooer  and  wooed,  was  that  there  certainly 
existed  a  prospect  of  marriage  between  them. 

Of  all  the  young  ladies  whom  Parsons  had  ever  met, 
no  one  of  them  had  more  favorably  impressed  him 
as  being  an  embodiment  of  artless  candor  than  had 
Miss  Rowdon.  There  was,  therefore,  the  witness  of  his  own 
judgment  arrayed  on  the  side  of  the  young  lady's  truth 
fulness  in  reference  to  the  condition  of  her  mind 
towrards  Munson. 

Like  cases  which  often  come  before  courts  of  judi 
cature,  the  evidence  in  the  matter  which  Parsons  was 
investigating  was  conflicting — a  kind  of  labyrinthian 
difficulty  through  which  he  could  find  no  thread  to 
lead  him.  He  was  bewildered.  One  question  settled 


THE  HONEST   THIEF.  191 

and  he  imagined  his  mind  would  be  at  ease.  Alas  ! 
how  very  much  he  reckoned  without  his  host. 

Parsons  had  never  been  thrown  in  a  company  in 
which  Miss  Rowdon  was  having  the  especial  attention 
of  Mr.  Munson.  Had  such  an  opportunity  as  this  been 
hitherto  presented,  his  train  of  thoughts  would  have 
been  different.  There  would  have  been  less  disposition 
on  his  part  to  wonder  over  the  multiplied  replies  that 
Miss  Rowdon  was  accredited  with  giving  to  inquiries 
about  her  visitor. 

An  assiduous  student  of  human  nature,  Parsons  had 
given  the  study  of  physiognomy  some  careful  attention. 
He  thought  that  a  better  understanding  of  what  was  dis 
coverable  in  the  human  countenance,  as  a  revelation  of 
the  emotions  of  the  soul,  would  aid  him  in  shunning 
such  an  unfortunate  ending  as  was  his  recent,  first  and 
unromantic  love  affair.  He  remembered  that  unfortu 
nate  awakening  and  realized  the  fact  that  he  was 
by  no  means  proof  against  the  potency  of  beauty — by 
no  means  fortified  against  the  snares  of  female  loveli 
ness.  He  remembered  that  Miss  Mary  Lawson  had 
taught  him  an  important  lesson.  He  remembered,  too, 
with  some  degree  of  regret,  that  the  purport  of  her  lesson 
was  that  he  should  practice  more  caution,  more  circum 
spection  in  the  future. 

As  a  result  of  Parsons'  investigations  in  regard  to 
what  might  be  discovered  as  the  emotional  in  human 
nature,  he  assumed  that  the  soul  had  an  unspoken 
language  which  could  not  be  counterfeited.  Adepts,  he 
argued,  might,  in  the  use  of  a  common  vernacular 
lead  the  over-confident  into  trouble — into  the  meshes  of 
a  net,  woven  in  the! loom  of  hypocrisy,  leaving  a 


192  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

pining  victim  to  lament  his  temerity,  and  in  anguish 
to  doubt  whether  there  was  anything  good  in  humanity 
or  not. 

Rising  superior  to  a  want  of  confidence  in  his  race, 
Parsons  believed  the  soul  had  the  power  of  revealing 
its  excitements — a  language  of  looks — a  language  that 
with  inarticulate  brightness  flashed  in  sparkling  beauty 
the  sentiments  of  the  soul's  emotions — a  language 
which  excites  admiration,  awakens  and  calls  to  the 
windows  man's  immortal  nature,  bidding  it  speak 
through  those  eyes.  Do  the  lips  grow  dumb  in  giving 
expressions  to  a  subdued  and  eloquent  story  of  a  heart 
overladened  by  sentiment  of  love  ?  Let  the  bor 
rowed  expression  that  pervades  the  human  face,  and  in 
timorous  silence  looks  a  language  it  can  not  clothe  in 
words,  be  translated,  and  thereby  learn  the  better  to 
understand  something  that  defies  deception.  Why  not  ? 
Do  you  doubt  the  language  of  the  heart  that  lifts  itself 
to  the  eyes  when  sorrow  broods  about  the  soul?  Do 
you  need  words  as  the  portraiture  of  a  grief  which  lies 
with  its  more  than  laden  weight  on  the  mind?  0, 
no  !  Words  would  1  it  be  bankrupt  in  describing 
many  an  antagonizing  sorrow  which  soul-language  so 
readily  portrays. 

Such  was  the  train  of  thoughts  that  was  claiming  a 
place  in  Parsons'  mind,  as  memory  rehearsed  every 
word,  re-drew  every  act  and  recounted  every  expression 
of  Miss  Rowdon  during  his  visit  of  yesterday,  and  a 
part  of  the  day  then  passing. 

"Oh!"  said  he,  "if  I  could  only  see  them  once  meet. 
With  a  meeting  occurring  within  the  immediate  range 
of  my  observation,  I  am  sure  I  could  put  to  silence 
my  present  wondering  as  to  how  matters  stand  between 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  193 

Miss  Rowdon  and  Munson.  I  could  then  determine 
what  reliability  was  to  be  placed  in  the  floating  rumors 
that  so  obstinately  contradict  what  the  young  lady 
herself  declares  to  be  absolutely  untrue." 

"But  why  should  I  be  making  myself  so  especially 
interested  in  the   affairs  of  one  with  whom   I  have  so 
recently  formed  an  acquaintance  ?"  said  Parsons  in  his 
continued  soliloquy.     "Aye,   now  I   have   it.     She   is 
not   only   an  acquaintance,   but  has    allowed  me   the 
privilege  of  putting  her  name  in   the  calendar  of  my 
very  special  female  friends.     Not  only  so,  but  when  the 
matter  was  named    she    seemed   almost  disposed  to 
suggest  as  much  herself.     But  really  I  am  half  ashamed 
to  own  that  I   am   so   susceptible  to  the  charms  of  a 
woman,  as  to  be  thus  running  off  into  a  soliloquy  from 
which  I  cannot  eliminate  her  picture.     Of  all  I  have 
said,  she  seems  to  have  been  the  beginning,  middle  and 
end  ;  and,  do  what  I  could,   I  have  not  been  able  to 
pull    myself    away   from    the    remembrance    of    what 
passed  in  my  recent  visit  to  Miss  Rowdon.     Is  it  possi 
ble   that  the   fates    have    conspired    to   lead   me   into 
another  hopeless  entanglement  ?     Is  it  possible  that  I 
am  so  very  susceptible  to  the  impressions   of  beauty 
that  I  become  a  very  child  in  its  presence  ?     I  will  to 
the    right-about.       I  will  |no    longer   sit   here  and  in 
imaginative    angling    be    fishing   for  something   that 
never  was  intended  to  bite  at  my  hook — something 
which  perchance  may  already  be  booked  for  another's 
basket.     Hope  may  whisper,  but  cannot  prophesy." 

"Well,  well,  if  I  sit  here  musing  over  the  evanescent 
dreams  of  what  is  past,  I  will  not  be  able  to  fulfill  my 
engagement  for  this  afternoon.  But  hark  !  There  is 

WHAT  NEXT? — 13. 


194  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

the  bell  for  dinner,  and  I  suppose  I  can  quit  the  com 
panionship  of  the  muses  long  enough  to  go  and  answer 
the  present  demands  of  my  outer  man  for  food." 

After  dinner  Parsons  went  hack  to  his  room  and 
began  the  operation  of  putting  himself  in  better  trim 
for  his  promised  afternoon  visit  to  the  two  young  ladies 
in  the  Rowdon  home. 

Professor  Parsons  was  by  education  somewhat  dis 
posed  to  be  fastidious  in  his  dress;  and,  as  has  been 
previously  stated,  wore  the  very  best  of  clothing,  all  of 
which  was  made  in  the  very  latest  style. 

While  making  his  toilet,  Parsons'  mind  was 
far  from  being  wholly  engaged  in  equiping  him 
self  for  his  entrance  into  the  company  to  be 
visited.  He  was  wondering  if  some  plan  could  not 
be  devised,  whereby  the  secret  which  he  was  so 
much  interested  in,  could  not  be  discovered.  What 
he  wanted  to  know  was  problematic,  and  with  its 
uncertainty  he  was  wrestling.  He  solved  the  problem 
of  dressing,  but  the  more  difficult  and  important  mat 
ter  which  was  resting  so  heavily  upon  his  mind  he  had 
to  carry  with  him  unanswered.  There  was  no  solution 
that  brought  with  it  satisfaction. 

When  John  Parsons  emerged  from  his  room  dressed, 
cap  a  pie,  in  his  holiday  attire,  he  looked  the  very 
impersonation  of  neatness.  But,  while  his  garb  was  in 
no  way  objectionable,  he  felt  he  would  carry  into  the 
presence  of  the  ladies  the  same  annoying  uncertainty 
with  which  he  had  contended  ever  since  his  introduc 
tion  to  Miss  Rowdon. 

Sauntering  along  the  intervening  distance  between 
his  boarding  house  and  the  Rowdon  mansion,  Parsons' 
mind  was  actively  at  work.  He  had  not  proceeded 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  195 

far,  until  he  found  he  was  making  material  for  history, 
the  warp  of  which  was  a  dark  prophetic  foreboding,  and 
the  woof  a  beautiful  and  flowery  future.  What  he  brought 
out  was  a  strange  and  striking  contrast,  and  what  he 
proposed  to  make  out  of  such  a  queer  combinatii  n 
none  but  himself  could  have  divined. 

Why  such  strange  day-dreams  should  have  been  con 
tinually  haunting  the  mind  of  the  young  preceptor  is 
probably  not  so  enigmatical  as  to  defy  solution.  It  is 
barely  possible  that,  like  many  other  students,  he  was 
disquieted  because  he  had  propounded  a  set  of  ques 
tions  to  himself  which  defied  his  investigations.  He 
had  possibly  never  owned,  even  to  himself,  that  he  was 
canying  a  load  of  anxious  suspense  which  had  been 
produced  by  a  strong  personal  regard  for  Miss  Rowdon, 
but  which  regard  was  handicapped  by  the  claims  of  her 
long-time  suitor. 

Scrupulously  honest,  as  was  Parsons,  had  he  brought 
up  a  self-accusation  of  being  in  love  with  Miss  Rowdon, 
he  would  have  appealed  the  question  to  his  own  heart, 
and  would  have  dared  to  say — "Heart,  be  honest. 
Tell  me  if  the  perturbed  condition  of  my  mind  is 
an  indication  of  strong  friendship,  or  am  I  in  love  ? 
Answer,  for  I  have  most  emphatically  denied  the  soft 
impeachment,  and  I  would  not  be  untrue  to  myself.  In 
explanation  of  the  state  of  my  feelings  towards  Miss 
Rowdon,  I  am  ready  to  admit  that  she  has  woven 
about  me  a  spell  of  enchantment  such  as  I  have  never 
heretofore  known.  Tell  me,  Heart,  am  I  in  love  with 
Miss  Rowdon?" 

Such  was  the  degree  of  sympathy  which  was  aroused 
in  the  mind  of  Parsons  when  he  first  heard  of  her 
strenuous  declarations  that  she  had  not  the  slightest 


196  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

idea  of  ever  becoming  the  wife  of  Munson  ;  and  he 
was  bold  enough  to  assert  that  if  such  were  a  fact, 
some  means  ought  to  be  devised  to  relieve  her  from  an 
embarassing  persecution.  It  was  this  that  excited  his. 
pity  and  made  him  her  friend. 

Upon  reaching  the  home  of  Miss  Rowdon  she  and 
Miss  Watson  gave  the  visitor  quite  a  cordial  greeting, 
and  jocularly  complimented  him  upon  his  metamor- 
phorsed  appearance.  To  this  he  responded  in  a  like 
vein,  saying  it  did  not  necessarily  follow  that  "fine 
feathers  made  fine  birds. 

"Neatness  is  admirable,"  replied  Miss  Lunata. 
"Indeed  it  is  a  moral  virtue  and  has  been  commended 
under  the  three  divine  dispensations.  But,  while  this 
is  true,  it  is  the  mind  with  its  superior  excellency — the 
mind  which  is  responsive  to  the  demands  of  right  that 
makes  the  model  man." 

"True,"  said  Parsons,  "but  in  what  school  of 
metaphysics  have  you  studied,  that  has  made  it  possi 
ble  for  you  to  deliver  so  pithy  a  dissertation  in  such  a 
laconic  style?  Under  wrhose  instructions  has  your 
pupilage  been  spent,  that  you  are  thus  able  in  one 
short  sentence,  to  so  nearly  compass  the  whole  duty  of 
man?" 

"My  instruction  along  this  line  has  been  derived 
from  two  sources:  reading  and  observation,"  said  Miss 
Lunata.  "No  private  tutor  has  furnished  me  any 
information  as  to  what  constitutes  a  true  gentleman. 
An  insight  into  the  private  lives  of  some  of  our  nation's 
true  nobility,  as  seen  in  the  light  of  history,  has  been 
one  source  from  which  my  conclusion  has  been  drawn. 
Of  course  my  opportunity  for  making  observation 
upon  the  life  and  character  of  men  is  exceedingly 


THE  HOXEST  THIEF.  197 

limited.  I  have  but  very  few  male  acquaintances 
with  whom  I  am  sufficiently  intimate  to  furnish  me 
any  proof  that  my  conclusions  are  correct.  If,  however, 
I  see  a  man  who  is  persistent  in  putting  himself  in  a 
position  to  be  criticised,  I  at  once  conclude  that  with 
such  a  man  there  is  a  serious  deficiency  of  what  it 
takes  to  make  a  model  man." 

"You  seem  to  have  been  able  to  delineate  one  of  the 
greatest  of  human  virtues.  It  therefore  appears  to  me 
that  you  would  be  exceedingly  hard  to  please  in  your 
selection  of  a  partner  with  whom  to  undertake  the 
journey  of  married  life,"  said  Parsons.  "The  standard 
of  human  merit  which  you  have  raised,  I  fear  is  so 
high  that  you  will  not  be  able  to  find  any  one  who 
can  come  up  to  it.  You  would,  I  think,  be  disposed 
to  ask  too  much  in  the  way  of  attractions  not  to 
mention  what  you  would  require  in  the  way  of  virtues, 
ever  to  find  any  one  answering  the  demands  of  your 
standard." 

"I  do  not  think  I  would  be  unreasonable  in  my 
demands,  Mr.  Parsons,"  replied  Miss  Rowdon.  "When  I 
do  marry,  should  such  an  occurrence  ever  transpire 
with  me,  it  will  be  to  some  one,  you  may  rest  assured, 
who  approximates  my  ideal — some  one  into  whose 
face  I  can  look  with  pride — some  one  upon  whose  arm 
I  can  lean  with  confidence  and  uncompromising  trust 
— some  one  whose  honor,  honesty  and  devotion  to 
truth  will,  when  known,  be  a  passport  to  the  circle  of 
genuinely  worthy  society,  wherever  our  lots  may  be 
cast.  I  would  not  want  to  wed  a  man  who  could  be 
captivated  by  the  empty  bawbles  of  gilded  fashionable 
society.  On  the  contrary,  I  would  prefer  the  society 
and  companionship  of  an  intellectual  man — a  man  of 


198  '    WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

letters,  if  you  please.  But,  while  I  really  admire  such 
accomplishments,  I  could  not  admire  them  unaccom 
panied  by  a  liberal  share  of  common  sense." 

''Well,  well  !  Miss  Lunata  ;"  if  the  definition  of 
your  ideal  man  has  not  been  most  elaborately  given,  I  am 
no  part  of  a  judge  of  human  language.  Your  outlining  of 
your  model  man  is  graphic.  Nothing,  it  seems  to  me, 
could  stand  him  out  in  bolder  and  more  open  relief  than 
your  description.  But  the  question  again  recurs.  Where 
will  you  find  the  man  who  will  answer  the  require 
ments  you  have  submitted?" 

"Has  this  country  become  so  completely  depleted  of 
its  better  men-material  as  to  make  the  finding  of  such 
qualities  as  I  have  mentioned  a  rarity  among  them  ? 
Have  the  ennobling  characteristics  which  I  have  enum 
erated  so  run  down  as  to  make  their  discovery  a 
triumph  ?  Have  men  grown  less  worth}'  than  the}7 
were  in  the  days  of  our  grand-fathers  ?  I  can  not 
think  so.  Good,  honest,  intelligent,  and  splendid 
specimens  of  our  race  have  not  become  extinct.  They 
abound  in  every  part  of  the  country,  and  I  only  hope 
that  from  among  the  many,  I  may,  some  day,  discover 
one  that  will  meet  the  standard  of  my  ideal." 

To  this  brief  homily  Parsons  felt  he  wtfs  hardly  able 
to  make  a  suitable  reply.  That  there  was  a  large  share 
of  good,  sound  philosophy  in  what  she  said,  he  was 
willing  to  admit,  but  thought  she  was  disposed  to 
over-estimate  the  sum  of  human  virtues  that  would 
be  requisite  to  make  for  her  a  satisf}-ing  life-companion, 
and  replied  to  what  the  young  lady  had  said,  by 
reminding  her  of  what  he  had  already  remarked  in 
regard  to  her  ideal. 

"You  have  outlined  and  defined   what  your  model 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  199' 

man  ought  to  be,  Miss  Rowdon,"  said  Parsons,  "and 
I  am  still  of  the  opinion  that  such  a  model  would  be 
hard  to  find." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  Miss  Rowdon.  "But  unless  I  can 
find  some  one  of  whom  I  can  be  proud,  and  who  will 
be  willing  to  indulge  me  in  a  sufficiency  of  selfishness  to 
demand  that  he  be  proud  of  me,  I  will  devote  myself 
to  the  raising  of  chickens,  the  making  of  butter,  and  a 
giving  of  my  attention  to  the  domestic  duties  which 
are  needed  on  my  father's  plantation." 

"I  can  see  no  necessity  whatever,  Miss  Rowdon,  for 
your  making  any  sacrifice,"  said  Parsons.  "That  so 
fine  a  specimen  of  manhood  as  you  seem  to  think 
could  alone  appeal  to  your  admiration,  might  be  found, 
is  possible ;  and,  if  found,  I  feel  more  than  confident 
that  even  upon  a  short  acquaintance,  he  would  find  in 
you  much  to  admire,  much  to  delight,  and  much  of 
which  to  be  proud  when  you  recognized  him  as  a  friend,"" 

"You  flatter  me,  Mr.   Parsons,"  said  Miss  Rowdon. 

"By  no  means,"  replied  Parsons.  "Your  own 
honest  and  unadorned  candor,  as  I  read  your  character, 
would  forbid  that  I  use  any  word,  sentence,  or  phrase, 
in  speaking  of  you,  or  to  you,  that  does  not  convey  the 
sentiments  of  truthful  frankness." 

"It  is  your  really  sincere  opinion  then,  is  it,  that 
there  is  a  bare  possibility  of  my  finding  some  one  that 
I  could  admire,  because  of  the  excellent  traits  of 
character  he  possesses?" 

"Pardon  me  please,  Miss  Rowdon,  I  did  not  presume 
to  think  you  expected  to  fall  in  love  with  traits  of 
character  alone.  The  traits  of  character  might  catch 
your  attention,  when  they  were  fully  known.  I  presume 
the  party, in  the  possession  of  such  characteristics,  must 
be  one  who  is  at  least  passably  well  favored." 


200  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

"In  regprd  to  your  surmise  upon  the  point  you  have 
just  named,  Mr.  Parsons,  I  do  not  consider  you  are 
very  far  wrong.  I  hardly  think  I  could  admire  a 
homely  man  ;  and  yet  when  I  use  the  word  homely,  I 
am  sure  I  cannot  claim  for  it  a  specific  meaning. 
There  is  too  great  a  variety  of  tastes  to  justify  my 
adhering  to  any  particular  pattern  as  a  standard." 

"Well,  Miss  Rowdon,"  said  Parsons,  "since  you 
have  been  kind  enough  to  give  me  your  ideal  of  the 
mental  and  moral  qualities,  so  all  important  in  the 
make  up  of  your  ideal  man,  would  you  object  to  giving 
me  your  views  of  what  would  meet  your  requirement 
as  to  the  physical  build  and  outward  appearance  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Parsons,  that  I  could  offer  a 
valid  excuse  for  not  complying  with  your  suggestion. 
But,  inasmuch  as  I  might  prove  to  be  rather  a  poor 
judge  of  statuary,  as  well  as  a  poor  expositor  of 
features,  suppose  you  subject  me  to  a  course  of 
catechism  upon  such  points  as  you  desire,  and  thus 
call  into  play  my  ideas  of  the  aesthetic  in  physical 
development." 

"If  this  suits  your  idea  of  getting  at  a  general  descrip 
tion,  rather  than  undertaking  to  present  a  continuously 
worded  picture,"  said  Parsons,  "  I  may  be  able  to 
find  out  what  kind  of  a  man  physically  would  please 
you." 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Parsons,  and  do  not  insist  that  my 
answers  shall  be  long.  80  word  your  questions  as  to 
enable  me  to  answer  in  monosyllables,  as  far  as  you 
can." 

"  Well,  to  begin.  How  tall  would  your  ideal  require 
a  man  must  be,  Miss  Rowdon?" 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  201 

"Somewhere  between  five  feet  and  eight  inches  and 
five  feet  and  ten  inches." 

"  About  how  much  would  you  have  him  weigh  ?" 

"  From  one  hundred  and  forty  to  one  hundred  and 
.seventy-five  pounds,  and  would  have  the  weight  well 
distributed  over  a  handsome  form." 

"  Would  you  prefer  auburn  hair,  Miss  Rowdon?" 

"  No." 

"  What  color  would  you  prefer  the  hair  to  be  ?" 

"Black." 

"  What  color  of  eyes  would  you  prefer?" 

"  A  dark  brown  or  black." 

"As  to  the  face — have  you  a  preference  in  regard  to 
the  nose  ?" 

"  I  have." 

"What  is  that  preference  ?" 

"I  would  like  a  nose  slightly  Roman  and  not  small, 
as  I  regard  the  nose,  to  some  extent,  a  mark  of 
character." 

"This,  I  think,  Miss  Rowdon,  is  about  all  I  need 
ask.  The  questions  you  have  answered  have  furnished 
me  with  what  I  would  be  disposed  to  approve,  as  an 
indication  of  good  taste  in  regard  to  the  physical  man 
whom  you  could  admire." 

"Is  there  not  something  you  would  like  to  add  to  the 
picture  my  interrogatories  have  built,  Miss  Rowdon? 
If  there  is,  I  am  sure  any  voluntary  contribution  you 
may  make  will  be  an  embellishment  which  will  point 
to  a  higher  degree  af  physical  perfection." 

"Well,  Mr.  Parsons,  I  do  not  know  that  what  I  may 
say  can  be  considered  a  finishing  stroke,  but  I  would 
like  to  say  that  while  my  answers  give  only  an  outline 
of  the  man  whom  I  might  admire,  there  are  othe 


202  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

things  besides  form,  height,  weight  and  features  that  go 
to  make  up  a  symmetrical  and  attractive  personality. 
A  man  might  be  all  that  your  interrogating  has  called 
from  me  and  still  be  a  very  boor.  Something  else 
besides  flesh  and  blood  is  needed  in  the  make  up  of 
a  true  gentleman.  Sprightliness,  urbanity,  ease  of 
manner,  gracefulness,  tidiness  in  dress,  benevolence 
and  a  temper  that  is  held  under  the  control  of  a  sound 
mind  in  a  sound  bod}',  may  finish  what  you  began." 

"Just  as  I  assured  you,  Miss  Rowdon;  it  needs  a 
woman's  hand  to  garnish,  brighten  and  beautify  that 
in  which  she  has  always  been  skilled.  Amid  the  floral 
offerings  of  spring,  a  beautiful  woman  appears  to  be  the 
queen  of  flowers,  nor  envies  the  blush  of  the  rose,  for 
nature  painted  two  in  the  beginning,  each  in  Eden. 
One  grew  upon  a  stem  and  one  grew  and  parted,  and 
Eve's  cheeks  were  roseate  too." 

"There  must  be  a  streak  of  poetry  in  your  nature, 
Mr.  Parsons." 

"Why  do  you  think  so,  Miss  Rowdon?" 

"It  is  not  always  the  poet  that  makes  the  best  poetry. 
There  is  often  an  expression  that  falls  from  the  pen 
that  is  prose  from  a  want  of  metre,  but  poetry  because 
of  its  high  reach  of  beauty.  You  understand  what  I 
mean,"  said  Miss  Lunata. 

"Possibly  I  do,  Miss  Rowdon,  but  if  I  have  struck 
one  chord  of  poetry  in  my  prose  this  afternoon ,  I  must 
crave  your  pardon,  for  really,  I  did  not  mean  it." 

"O,  my!  Why  crave  my  pardon?  Do  you  desire 
to  ignore  the  fact  that  you  sometimes  draw  beautiful 
pictures  which  would  almost  wake  up  the  energies  of  a 
dormant  soul?" 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  203 

"I  said  I  understood  you,  Miss  Rowdon,  but  I  now 
think  I  was  mistaken.  I  imagined  I  had  somehow 
made  a  blunder  which  escaped  1113'  notice,  and  for 
which  I  craved  pardon.  I  believe  I  now  understand 
you,  and  therefore  offer  you  my  thanks  for  your  com 
pliment." 

The  discussion  of  various  questions,  one  seeming  to 
be  suggested  by  another,  and  consequently  connected, 
either  immediately  or  remotely  with  each  other,  consti 
tuted  a  kind  of  running,  half-argumentative  conversation 
during  the  better  half  of  the  afternoon. 

At  length  there  came  a  lull  in  what  had  been  a 
pleasant  and  animated  evening  pastime,  and  Parsons, 
concluding  that  an  acquaintance  of  so  short  a  duration 
would  hardly  warrant  a  longer  stay ;  after  compliment 
ing  them  very  highly  for  the  pleasant  and  exceedingly 
delightful  afternoon  visit,  bowed  himself  out  of  their 
presence  and  was  soon  out  of  the  reach  of  their  vision, 
but  not  out  of  the  reach  of  their  criticism. 

Again  left  to  his  own  musings,  Parsons  began  a 
recapitulation  of  all  that  had  been  said  and  done 
during  the  time  of  his  afternoon  visit.  The  civilities 
of  the  occasion  had  been  exceedingly  pleasant  and  he 
felt  that  the  remembrance  thereof  would  ever  be  a 
green  spot  in  memory's  waste.  He  decided  that  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  was  the  most  delightful  woman  he  had 
ever  met,  and  that  her  keen,  shrewd,  ready  wit,  and 
clear-sighted  judgment  he  had  never  seen  paralleled. 
But  the  peculiar  feature  of  her  mental  calibre,  as  he 
viewed  her,  was  her  outspoken  candor.  He  regarded 
her  as  very  bold  in  the  maintenance  of  her  views,  in  the 
discussion  of  a  mooted  proposition,  without  the  least 
shadow  of  pedantry  or  show  of  the  opinionist.  In  fact, 


204  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

he  found  in  the  young  lady  a  child-like  simplicity  that 
was  truly  an  adornment.  This  he  thought  ought 
necessarily  to  have  been  coupled  with  a  large  share  of 
credulty,  but  such  he  found  was  not  true  of  her. 
What  she  wanted  to  know,  which  was,  in  any  way,  to  be 
decided  by  proof,  the  testimony  she  demanded, 
and  when  it  was  examined  and  weighed,  she  drew  her 
•own  conclusions. 

Such  was  the  train  of  thought  that  ran  through  the 
mind  of  Parsons,  as  he  sat  in  his  room  absorbed  in 
-deep  and  disquieted  meditation.  With  the  passing 
of  these  thoughts,  he  seemed  to  grow  disturbed, 
nervous;  and  springing  to  his  feet,  began  to  walk  back 
and  forth,  across  his  room;  and,  as  he  walked,  might 
have  been  heard  to  say  in  undertones  :  '  Yes,  I  have 
met  her  twice,  and  the  result  of  the  meetings  has 
impressed  me  with  the  belief  that  she  is  a -very  superior 
woman,  but  with  that  thought,  comes  the  gloomy 
reflection  that  with  all  her  goodness — all  her  generosity 
of  soul — all  her  purity  of  character,  and  all  her 
superior  worth  in  manj'  other  particulars,  she  must 
bestow  the  wealth  of  her  affection  upon  some  one  else, 
and  not  upon  me.  Did  I  say  it  ?  Then  why  deny  it 
any  longer  ?  I  am  in  love  with  Lunata  Rowdon.  Will 
the  fates  decree  that  mine  shall  be  a  hopeless  love?  I 
fear  it  is  so  written  in  their  books,  and  that  I  am  again 
doomed  to  see  the  prize  I  would  like  to  win  vanish 
from  the  reach  of  Hope.  But  with  stubborn  resolve,  I 
will  patiently  wait.  Now  What  Next? 


CHAPTER  XI. 

'•Our  doubts  are  traitors, 

And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win, 
By  fearing  to  attempt," 

— Shakespeare. 

¥¥/fITH  Parsons'  departure  from  the  Rowdon  place,. 
II       as  might  have  been  expected,  the  two  young 

I    I  ladies  had  a  general  and   lengthy  interchange 
^Bsfl^^r^ 

of    opinions   in  regard  to   the    visitor.      Each 

expressed  herself  without  restraint,  for  there  was  no 
one  to  utter  a  protest  to  the  contrary.  Each  was  per 
fectly  candid  with  the  other,  for  the  reason,  that,  as 
far  as  Miss  Lena  Watson  was  concerned,  she  had  seen 
enough  of  Mr.  Parsons,  as  a  boarder  in  her  home,  to 
form  a  definite  opinion  and  to  put  herself  upon  record 
as  his  friend.  That  he  was  a  gentleman  of  the  first 
water,  she  had  become  assured  before  he  had  been  an 
inmate  in  their  house  for  even  a  single  week.  His 
gentility,  his  neatness,  his  affability,  and  his  genuine 
politeness  .were  worn  by  him  as  the  child  wears  its 
medal  of  award,  and  always  indicated  that  as  a  gen 
tleman  he  rated  above  par. 

When  it  came  to  Miss  Rowdon's  turn  to  express  her 
first  item  of  criticism,  she  was  ready  to  admit  that  her 
opportunities  for  forming  an  opinion  of  the  jroung  man 
had  not,  by  any  means,  been  so  good  as  had  been  Miss 
Lena's,  but  that,  while  she  would  not  like  to  be  con 
sidered  opinionated,  she  did  believe  she  was  able  ta 
form  a  correct  opinion  of  the  general  or  characteristic 
features  of  a  man's  make-up,  with  even  a  limited 
acquaintance.  She  believed  the  Divine  fingers  in  the 
main,  wrote  a  legible  hand,  and  that  nothing  was 


206  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

needed  to  comprehend  His  chirograph}-,  except  to 
understand  whether  either  accident  or  intention  had 
changed  the  impress  of  His  sign-manual. 

Looking  Miss  Watson  squarely  in  the  face,  as  though 
she  would  thereby  emphasize  what  she  proposed 
to  further  say,  Miss  Rowdon  continued — saying : 
"Miss  Lena,  Prof.  Parsons  has  a  good  face — an  expres 
sive  face — a  face  which  I  interpret  as  indicative 
of  generosity  in  his  nature,  or  being  possessed 
of  a  large  share  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  He  has 
a  face,  over  which  the  light  plajrs  with  radiance  when 
superinduced  by  animated  conversation.  Ease  in 
manner,  the  use  of  chaste  and  elegant  language,  and 
his  fluency  in  the  use  of  it,  are  manifestations  of  an 
active  and  energetic  mind.  His  freshness  and  clear 
ness  of  complexion  indicate  a  freedom  from  the 
corroding  effects  of  intemperance,  and  that  he  is  a  man 
of  regular  and  good  habits. 

I  presume  to  guess  that  the  sheltering  care  which  his 
early  life  received,  together  with  his  continued  attend 
ance  upon  his  studies,  up  to  the  ver3r  eve  of  his 
embarking  upon  his  present  professional  work,  saved 
him  from  falling  away  into  the  vices  which  shipwreck 
so  many  young  men.  If  I  interpret  aright  the  spark 
ling  brightness  of  his  black  eyes,  and  the  facial 
pureness  of  his  Anglo-American  blood,  there  is  in  him 
the  attestation  of  a  commendatory  volume  in  favor  of 
pure  living.  His  intellectuality  is  certainly  self- 
assertive.  Of  this  I  feel  I  can  bear  testimony  after  the 
conversation  which  I  held  with  him  to  day.  Of  all  the 
gentlemen  I  have  ever  met,  I  think  I  have  crossed  no 
one  who  possesses  more  that  is  attractive  than  does 
Prof.  Parsons." 


T.iE  HONEST  THIEF.  207 

Miss  Watson,  who  had  attentively  listened  to  all 
that  Miss  Rowdon  had  said,  coincided  with  her  exactly, 
and  while  she  thought  Lunata's  description  was  pitched 
upon  quite  a  high  key,  she  nevertheless  declared  her 
sketching  of  his  character  was  true  to  life.  "There  is 
one  thing,  Lunata,"  remarked  Lena,  "of  which  I  am 
a  better  witness  than  yourself,  and  which  I  feel  like 
adding  as  a  finishing  stroke  to  the  picture  you  have 
already  drawn.  I  believe  I  am  more  fully  advised  of 
the  truth  of  what  I  propose  to  say  than  any  one  else  in 
our  community,  from  the  fact  of  my  matured  acquaint 
ance  with  him,  and  I  think  I  can  assure  you,  Lunata, 
that  he  posseses  some  kind  of  attractiveness  that  has 
won  for  him  a  way  into  the  esteem  and  confidence,  not 
only  of  our  family,  but  has  so  completely  ingratiated 
himself  in  the  favor  and  effection  of  the  school 
children  as  to  be  considered  by  them  a  living  oracle. 
Nay,  more ;  his  growing  popularity  has  become  a 
subject  of  comment,  for  he  seems,  with  a  few 
exceptions,  to  have  laid  siege  to  the  favorable  estimation 
and  good  will  of  everybody  in  our  community.  Why 
should  it  be  otherwise?"  said  she.  "He  has  shown 
himself  to  be  a  pattern  in  everything  worthy  of 
emulation — a  discreet  and  prudent  teacher — no  part  of 
a  meddler  in  other  people's  affairs — no  lender  of  help 
to  lift  the  common  gossip  of  the  neighborhood  into 
greater  publicity.  He  attends  strictly  to  his  own 
business,  in  his  own  quiet  way.  In  fine,  he  has  shown 
himself  to  be  a  gentleman  to  the  manor  born,  and 
deserves  universal  esteem." 

"Well,  well,  Lena  !"  said  Lunata;  "if  I  did  not  know 
you  as  well  as  I  do,  I  would  certainly  conclude  from 
your  laudatory  expressions,  that  you  had  met  your 


208  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

ideal  in  Prof.  Parsons,  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,, 
had  fallen  most  desperately  in  love  with  him.  I 
happen  to  know,  howrever,  that  your  admiration  can 
be  wonderfully  excited  over  almost  anything  that  you 
regard  as  especially  good.  That  you  should  therefore 
grow  a  little  enthusiastic  in  your  admiration  of  so  nice 
a  specimen  of  young  manhood  as  is  presented  in  the 
person  of  Prof.  Parsons  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise. 
Your  good  opinion  of  the  young  teacher,  situated  as. 
you  are,  would  go  a  great  way  in  helping  me  to  form 
an  opinion  of  his  moral  and  mental  worth,  and  I  am 
glad  that  your  estimation  of  his  merit  founded  upon 
more  intimate  association  with  him  that  I  have  had, 
so  nearly  agrees  with  the  opinion  I  have  formed  from 
the  very  limited  association  which  I  have  had  in  the 
two  visits  which  he  has  made  to  us  jointly ;  the 
pleasure  of  which  visits  I  must  place  to  your  credit. 
Please  accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  your  intervention 
in  removing  a  prejudice  which  I  unwittingly  created 
against  myself,  and  forgive  my  jest  in  regard  to  your 
being  in  love  with  the  young  man,  for  I  am  sure  you 
could  admire  him  without  letting  your  heart  go.  No,, 
no,  Lena,  I  hardly  think  either  of  us  would  consent  to- 
admit  that  she  was  not  heart-whole  and  fancy  free." 

While  this  animated  colloquy  was  going  on  in  the 
Rowdon  home,  curious  and  insinuating  questions  were 
forcing  themselves  upon  the  consideration  of  Parsons. 
As  he  meditatively  sat  in  his  room,  he  deliberately  yet 
anxiously  recapitulated  what  had  transpired  during  his 
visit  just  finished,  and  recalled  everything,  as  far  as  he 
could  remember,  that  had  been  said  during  the  con 
versation  with  the  young  ladies.  "When  I  do  marry, 
should  such  an  occurrence  ever  transpire  with  me.'* 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  209 

"Yes,  these  were  her  identical  words.  What  can  they 
mean  ?  Must  they  be  interpreted  as  hanging  a  thicker 
veil  over  the  misunderstood  frequency  of  that  horse- 
hitching  in  front  of  her  father's  house,  or  is  it  to  be 
paraphrased  to  mean  that  the  veil,  which  has  so  long 
challenged  the  suspicion  of  her  neighbors,  is  on  the 
eve  of  being  lifted,  and  the  light  turned  in,  on  what 
has  been  an  uninterpreted  enigma?" 

"If  such  an  occurrence  ever  transpire  with  me.' ' 
"How  prophetic  those  words  sounded,"  said  Parsons. 
"Is  there  no  key  to  their  meaning?  Is  there  no  way  of 
securing  a  revelation  from  her  as  to  why  she  should 
have  used  an  expression  that  hangs  a  doubt  over  the 
predictions  of  so  many  of  her  friends,  and  sets  at 
naught  the  intimations  of  her  suitor,  Aurelius  Munson? 
"  I  have  no  key — I  have  no  means  of  looking  into  the 
mind  of  her  whose  lips  uttered  the  sentence.  By  and 
by,  time — the  revealer  of  secrets,  may  show  me  why 
the  expression  was  used,  and  I  will  be  compelled  to 
await  her  answer." 

Several  weeks  passed  before  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
Miss  Rowdon  was  again  furnished  young  Parsons.  In 
the  meantime,  he  had  busied  himself  in  the  usual 
routine  of  his  daily  work  so  completely  that  he  had 
allowed  himself  but  little  time  to  think  of  anything 
else.  Ever  and  anon,  in  the  gloaming,  after  the  rattle, 
bustle  and  worry  of  the  day  had  passed,  he  would  find 
himself  weaving  bright  mind  pictures,  which  in  their 
youth  and  beauty  were  important  factors.  la  it  at  all 
strange  that  his  poetic  fancy  should  have  drawn  no 
sketch,  in  which  the  fair  face  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon 
did  not,  sooner  or  later,  peep,  and  become  a  part  of 
his  imagery? 

WHAT  NEXT? — 14. 


210  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

Just  before  parting  with  the  young  ladies  in  his  very 
recent  visit,  Parsons  suggested  to  Miss  Rowdon  that  he 
would  be  pleased,  with  her  approval,  to  have  an  oppor 
tunity  of  visiting  her  occasionally.  To  this  suggestion 
Miss  Rowdon  readily  assented,  and  remarked  that  it 
would  give  her  pleasure  to  have  him  call  at  any  time 
he  felt  disposed  to  do  so. 

For  reasons  that  he  thought  somewhat  imperative, 
Parsons  did  not  do  himself  the  pleasure  of  accepting 
Miss  Rowdon's  permission  to  call  upon  her  for  several 
weeks,  although,  had  he  followed  the  dictates  of  his 
wishes,  he  would  have  let  but  little  time  intervene 
between  his  visits.  According  to  his  computation  of 
the  passing  of  the  days  since  he  made  his  visit  to  the 
two  young  ladies,  it  seemed  that  an  age  had  gone  by. 
A  lover  is  a  poor  chronologist. 

After  two  weeks  had  intervened  since  Parsons  had 
met  Miss  Rowdon,  he  was  engaged  in  his  usual  Sat 
urday's  reading,  in  the  quiet  of  his  room,  when  word 
was  brought  to  him  from  Mrs.  Watson,  that  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  had  called  for  a  short  visit,  and  that 
it  was  desired  to  have  him  help  entertain  the  young  lady. 
This  was  really  a  very  agreeable  surprise,  and  he 
returned  word  to  Mrs.  Watson,  that  nothing  could  give 
him  more  pleasure  than  to  answer  her  demands,  and 
that  he  would  be  down  in  a  few  minutes. 

While  arranging  his  wardrobe  preparatory  to  re-dress 
ing  himself,  Parsons  was  in  rather  a  perturbed  state  of 
mind.  He  had  about  resolved  upon  making  a  direct 
effort  to  draw  Miss  Rowdon  out  upon  the  question  that 
had  been  so  long  puzzling  him,  and  wondered  if  the 
opportune  time  had  not  arrived  to  put  his  resolution  into 
effect.  "I  will  see,"  said  he. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  211 

Donning  a  neat  suit  and  brushing  himself  up  a  bit, 
he  at  once  repaired  to  the  drawing-room  in  which  he 
found  Miss  Lena  Watson  and  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon 
engaged  in  a  spirited  conversation.  As  Parsons  enter 
ed  the  room  the  young  ladies  arose  and  with  kindly 
mein  and  pleasurable  expressions,  gave  him  a  very 
cheerful  salutation. 

After  a  few  commonplace  compliments  had  been 
exchanged,  such  as  usually  serve  as  a  prelude  to  some 
thing  more  interesting,  each  of  the  party  was  seated. 
Almost  immediately  Miss  Rowdon,  with  a  mischievous 
twinkle  in  her  light  blue  eye,  informed  Mr.  Parsons  that 
her  present  visit  was  one  of  business  rather  than  pleasure, 
although  she  hoped  to  get  some  pleasure  out  of  her 
business;  and  that,  inasmuch  as  the  present  matter  of 
business  was  with  him,  she  thought  it  would  be  well 
to  start  in  at  once.  By  making  a  speedy  beginning, 
and  by  an  expeditious  style  of  transacting  her  work,  she 
said,  she  expected  to  gain  some  reputation  as  a  young 
lady  of  bargaining  ability. 

"  I  am  at  your  mercy,  Miss  Rowdon,"  said  Parsons. 

"0,  my!  don't  talk  about  mercy,"  said  Miss  Row 
don.  "I  am  not  afreebooter.  I  am  not  on  a  pillaging 
expedition.  I  do  not  purpose  to  abduct  any  one,  nor 
purloin  anything.  My  intentions  are  not,  in  the  least, 
malevolent  or  naughty.  My  business  is  legitimate  as 
well  as  innocent." 

"Of  course  I  am  unable  to  understand  what  purpose 
you  areaiming  to  accomplish,"  said  Parsons.  "Yours, 
you  say  is  a  mission  of  business, and  3^et  you  fail  to  define 
what  kind  of  business  you  have  undertaken  to  perform. 
You  state  that  the  affair  you  have  in  hand  makes  me  a 
party  to  what  you  have  purposed,  and  yet  you  fail  to 


212  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

enlighten  me  as  to  how  it  is,  or  why  it  is,  that  I  am 
interested  in  something  that  immediately  concerns 
you." 

"Really,  Prof.  Parsons,  as  one  whose  name  has 
been  enrolled  in  the  calendar  of  your  special  lady 
friends,  I  suppose  that  almost  anything  in  which  I  am 
personally  interested  would  become  a  matter  of  some 
concern  to  you." 

"True,  Miss  Rowdon,  I  am  your  friend,  and  am 
willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  within  my  power,  if  need  be 
in  your  behalf,  that  I  may  show  my  fidelity  to  my  pledge 
of  friendship.  Command  my  services.  They  are  yours 
if  you  need  them.  If  you  are  here  for  the  purpose  of 
exculpating  yourself  from  the  charge  of  dishonesty  in 
an  affaire  (hi  ceur,  I  am  ready  to  enter  as  your 
attorney.  If  you  are  here  to  arraign  some  one  party 
on  the  charge  of  persecution,  I  believe  you  might  rely 
on  all  the  power  of  what  legal  lore  I  have,  to  be  used 
in  vindication  of  the  justice  of  your  charge.  If  you 
are  here  under  an  arraignment  for  cruelty,  I  think  you 
may  put  me  down  on  the  side  of  the  defense,  for  I 
cannot  believe  you  are  capable  of  performing  an  act 
of  intentional  cruelty,  and  I  do  not  think  an  adverse 
verdict  could  be  obtained,  unless  malice  could  be 
established  as  a  prompter  to  what  you  had  done. 
Cruelty,  I  presume,  is  the  charge  upon  which  you  are 
to  be  tried?" 

"I  am  by  no  means,  an  adept  in  the  interpretation 
of  law,"  said  the  young  lady,  "but,  tell  me,  am  I  in 
error  for  supposing  that  an  indictment  must  always 
precede  arraignment  for  trial,  in  criminal  cases?  By 
whom  therefore  has  the  charge  of  cruelty  been  pre- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  213 

ferred  ?  Who  were  the  witnesses  ?  Has  the  grand- 
jury  found  an  indictment  ?  Before  what  court  am  I  to 
be  tried?" 

"The  parties  who  have  originated  the  allegation  of 
cruelty  are  those  who  have  suffered,  as  I  suppose,  from 
an  over  amount  of  admiration  for  you,  and  for  which  ad 
miration  you  have  made  no  exchange  in  like  comodity — 
those  who  claim  to  be  laboring  under  heart-trouble, 
because,  of  your  fascinating  charms,  are  forever  barred 
against  approaching  you." 

"Just  listen  !  Lena  Watson,  to  what  Prof.  Parsons  is 
saying.  Accused  of  cruelty,  am  I  ?  Why  is  this,  if  it 
is  not  because  some  one  whose  head  is  softer  than  his 
heart,  has  formed  a  fancy  for  me  ?  Accused  of  cruelty 
because,  forsooth,  some  insidious  flatterer  has  prated 
about  "fascinating  charms."  Nonsense !  I  make 
confession  to  nothing.  My  case  has  been  tried  long 
ago,  and,  if  informed  in  regard  to  all  the  circumstances 
environing  me,  your  court — the  court  of  your  own 
honest  judgment  must  have  rendered  the  decision,  that 
I  have  been  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  This 
is  the  honest  verdict  of  my  conscience,  and  I  am  sure 
no  one  will  dare  to  try  to  traverse  the  decision  which  I 
have  determined  shall  stand." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Rowdon.  I  see  I  have  made  a 
mistake.  What  I  said  was  spoken  in  jest.  Under  no 
kind  of  persuasion  could  I  have  been  induced,  even  in 
a  spirit  of  merriment,  to  make  mention  of  anything 
that  would  awaken  in  your  mind  unpleasant  reminders. 
Please  forgive  my  inadvertent  allusion  to  anything 
unpleasant,  and  allow  me  again  to  assure  you  that  it 
was  altogether  foreign  from  any  intention  on  my  part 
to  say  one  word  that  would  wound  you,  by  bringing  to 
mind  unpleasant  associations." 


214  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

"I  do  not  suppose,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  "you 
would  intentionally  wound  me.  Indeed  I  know  you 
would  not,  and  you  need  not  have  asked  my 
pardon  for  saying  what  was  altogether  innocent  in 
itself.  My  peculiar  surroundings  make  me  sensitive 
or  even  nervous  when  my  mind  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  consideration  of  a  question,  which  you 
can  not  understand,  and  which  delicacy  and  the  regard 
I  have  for  paternal  wishes  forbids  my  explaining  for 
you.  I  may  have  shown  myself  to  be  a  little  excited, 
as  your  remarks  called  up  certain  existing  facts,  but 
quiet  is  now  restored,  and  I  am  ready  for  the 
prosecution  of  my  matter  of  business  with  you." 

Miss  Lunata's  face  at  once  assumed  its  wonted 
placidity,  and  over  it  there  crept  that  expressson  of 
mirthful  merriment  which  seemed,  but  a  few  moments 
before,  to  have  been  chased  away. 

"To  renew  our  talk  upon  business,"  said  Miss 
Rowdon,  "you  are  fully  aware,  being  yourself  a  Ken- 
tuckian,  what  admiration  Kentucky  girls  have  for  a 
good  and  beautiful  saddle-horse ;  and  the  one  you  ride 
is  certainly  the  handsomest  one  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  Now,  to  business.  Can  I  buy  or  trade  you 
out  of  him  ?  Any  other  praise  I  have  to  bestow  upon 
him, I  had  better  defer  until  I  have  made  my  purchase, 
provided  you  will  sell  him,  lest  my  admiration 
betoken  a  want  of  shrewdness  as  a  trader.  What  say 
you?" 

"Really,  3Tour  question  is  rather  a  hard  one  for  me 
to  answer,"  quoth  Parsons;  "I  am  greatly  attached  to 
my  horse,  and,  like  yourself,  I  am  disposed  to  regard 
him  as  the  most  stylish  specimen  of  the  equine  race  in 
this  section  of  the  country.  In  fact,  so  highh-  do  I 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  215 

prize  him  that  as  to  putting  a  price  on  him  in  money. 
I  would  not  know  how  to  begin.  Possibly  I  might 
trade  him  to  you,  provided  I  could  do  SjO  advanta 
geously.  But  to  be  candid  with  you,  Miss  Rowdon,  I 
have  long  thought  that  the  lady  who  rode  my  horse,  as 
hers,  would  herself  first  have  to  be  mine.  Now  if  I  submit 
such  terms  to  you,  I  fear  your  exalted  opinion  of  my 
noble  steed  would  be  materially  lessened.  What  think 
you  of  such  a  restriction?" 

"I  do  not  know  that  my  opinion  of  either  the  horse 
or  the  rider  would  be  altered  because  the  latter  wanted 
to  drive  a  shrewd  trade,"  said  Miss  Rowdon.  "Sup 
pose  I  were  to  assert  that  the  proposed  incumbrance 
would  enhance  the  yalue  of  the  horse  ;  what  would  you 
say  to  that?" 

"I  would  be  inclined  to  think,  Miss  Rowdon,  that 
you  had  pocketed  a  big  joke  and  had  come  over  to 
Mr.  Watson's  to  see  what  disposition  you  could  make 
of  it." 

"Indeed!  Then  what  would  you  surmise,  Prof. 
Parsons,  if  I  should  agree  to  take  both  horse  and  rider 
at  a  stipulated  price  ?" 

"That  Miss  Rowdon  would  create  rather  more  surprise 
than  surmise." 

"This  is  not  leap-year,  Professor,  but  'business  is 
business,'  as  old  man  Plicks  used  to  say,  and  I  am 
here  to  buy  or  trade  for  a  horse,  and  if  I  cannot  make 
the  purchase  without  taking  the  rider,  he  shall  be 
thrown  in  and  considered  my  property  without  further 
adjustment.  How  does  that  sound  ?" 

"Miss  Rowdon,  that  sounds  like  a  great  big  hoax, 
which  had  been  carefully  labled:  "NoMalice  In  77d/.s." 
But  if  you  are  really  in  undisguised  earnestness,  it 


216  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

looks  like  you  and  I  might  effect  a  trade.  If  I  under 
stand  your  proposition,  it  is  this:  You  propose  to  buy 
my  horse,  and  yourself  is  to  be  the  purchase  price.  In 
other  words,  you  are  to  become  my  property  in 
consideration  of  your  coming  into  possession  of  my 
horse.  Well,  it  is  said  that  a  fair  exchange  is  no 
robbery ;  but  what  will  be  the  condition  of  the  present 
owner  of  the  horse  subsequent  to  the  trade  ?" 

"Of  course  he  will  then  belong  to  me,"  said  Miss 
Rowdon,  "as  by  my  proposition  I  am  to  take  the 
horse  and  all  imcumbrances.  This  will,  therefore, 
transfer  to  my  possession  the  horse,  the  rider  and  all 
equipments  of  the  horse." 

"Under  these  stipulations,  Miss  Rowdon,  what 
requirements  would  be  expected  of  the  rider  after  the 
conditions  of  the  purchase  had  been  complied  with?" 

"Well,  all  that  would  be  expected  or  demanded  of 
him  would  be  that  he  maintain  unalterable  loyalty 
to  me,  incorruptable  affection  for  me,  and  ever  living 
confidence  in  me  as  the  new  owner  of  the  horse.  Could 
you  comply  with  such  conditions?" 

"Well,  well,  well!  Did  anyone  ever  hear  of  such  a 
bargain  ?"  said  Miss  Lena  Watson,  who  had  been  listen 
ing  to  the  tangled  hank  that  Lunata  and  the  Professor 
had  made  in  their  efforts  to  effect  a  trade.  "Really, 
Lunata,"  said  she,  "You  talk  about  trading  with 
Prof.  Parsons  in  such  a  matter-of-fact  style  that  I 
almost  feel  like  I  had  been  made  witness  to  a  short, 
but  romantic  courtship.  If  it  were  not  lacking  in  what 
are  said  to  be  the  usual  trimmings  which  must 
necessarihy  be  connected  with  every  incident  of  love 
making;  such  as  blushing,  sighing,  stammering  and 
manifested  uneas-iness,  I  would  be  disposed  to  believe 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  217 

there  was  more  in  this  swapping  arrangement  than 
mere  honest  coquetry.  When  the  goods  are  delivered  I 
may  change  my  opinion." 

"When  the  time  comes  for  the  delivery  of  the 
goods,"  said  Parsons  to  Miss  Watson,  "you  being  the 
only  witness,  I  presume  you  will  be  called  upon  to  see 
that  the  stipulations  of  this  contract  are  fully  complied 
with.  To  you,  Miss  Rowdon,  will  be  left  the  designat 
ing  of  the  time  when  we  both  take  possession  of  our 
property,  as  per  contract." 

With  this  remark  there  seemed  to  be  so  much  of  the 
solemn  and  pathetic  in  the  voice  and  manner  of 
Parsons,  that  the  young  ladies  could  no  longer 
restrain  their  risabilities,  and  each  broke  forth  in  merry 
peals  of  ringing  laughter. 

In  the  very  midst  of  this  outburst  of  merriment, 
Miss  Rowdon  arose  and  signified  her  intention  of  leav 
ing,  remarking  that  it  was  not  every  day  she  had 
an  opportunitj7  of  spending  a  more  pleasant  hour,  and 
that  she  had  never  had  the  chance  to  rally  Prof.  Par 
sons  on  his  gallantry  as  she  had  done  on  that  occasion. 
She  said,  no  harm,  she  hoped,  would  come  of  a  little 
innocent  fun.  such  as  she  and  the  Professor  had 
indulged  in,  for  she  really  held  him  in  too  high  esteem 
to  wish  him  any  other  than  good  luck  in  whatever  he 
undertook ;  then  starting  for  the  door,  Parsons  was  at 
once  by  her  side.  He  accompanied  her  to  the  stiles, 
and  seeing  her  safely  seated  upon  a  rather  spirited 
horse,  waved  her  a  polite  adieu  as  her  horse  cantered 
away ;  but  he  left  not  the  spot,  as  long  as  she  and  her 
cantering  steed  were  in  sight. 

When  Miss  Rowdon's  form  had  disappeared,  the 
young  teacher  turned  himself  about,  and  with  a  vision 


218  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

of  beauty  dancing  through  his  mind,  sought  his  room, 
and  throwing  himself  upon  a  divan,  was  at  once  engaged 
again  in  trying  to  solve  the  old  riddle. 

There  was  not  much,  he  thought,  in  the  little  bit  of 
pleasantry,  in  which  he  and  the  two  young  ladies  had 
indulged,  that  would  shed  any  light  upon  the  enigmati 
cal  problem,  over  which  he  had  spent  so  much  time. 
But  there  was  one  thing  of  which  he  was  convinced; 
which,  was  that  the  oftener  he  met  Miss  Rowdon  and 
the  more  he  saw  of  her,  the  more  did  he  become  inter 
ested  in  the  frequency  with  which  he  saw  the  horse  of 
Aurelius  Munson  hitched  to  the  rack  in  front  of  the 
Rowdon  home.  He  resolved,  however,  to  be  wary,  and 
to  exercise  caution,  notwithstanding  what  the  recent 
evidence  seemed,  more  than  ever,  to  indicate,  by  the 
long  and  continued  hitching  of  that  same  horse  to  the 
same  rack.  He  was  afraid  to  venture  along  the  line 
of  secret  investigation,  because  of  the  clandestine 
prophecies  which  were  afloat,  and  the  report  that  new 
discoveries  had  been  made,  confirmatory  of  the  fact 
that  something  novel  had  actually  happened  ;  for 
Munson  had  certainly  bespoke  a  new  suit  of  fine  and 
fashionable  clothing. 

All  that  John  Parsons  had  gathered,  with  reference 
to  the  state  of  the  courtship  between  Miss  Rowdon 
and  Munson,  was  fully  reviewed  in  an  hour  of  quiet 
meditation.  He  brought  into  revisal  every  interview 
he  had  held  with  her  from  the  time  of  his  introduc 
tion,  to  that  in  which  he  just  assisted  her  to  a  seat 
upon  her  horse,  and  anxiously  watched  her  retreating 
form  till  she  was  out  of  sight.  He  tried  to  recall 
every  sentence  he  had  ever  heard  her  repeat.  He  even 
tried  to  bring  back  from  memory's  depository  every 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  219 

expression,  every  gesture  and  every  pose,  which,  as 
hers,  had  attracted  his  attention.  From  this  array  of 
witnesses,  as  with  closed  eyes,  he  examined  them,  he 
sought  to  extract  an  answer  to  a  question  which  had 
become  an  all-absorbing  one  to  him.  After  wrestling 
in  mental  anxiety,  with  the  question  until-  he  became 
weary,  without  obtaining  any  satisfaction,  he  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  said  audibly — "There  is  no  other 
alternative  left !  There  is  no  other  plan  to  be 
devised  !  Why  should  I  remain  in  bewilder 
ing  doubt  any  longer?  I  will  go  to  Miss  Lunata 
herself.  I  will  tell  her,  in  a  spirit  of  candor, 
how  long  I  have  struggled  with  a  question  that  has 
ever  defied  my  investigation.  I  will  say  to  her  that 
she  alone  can  answer  the  inquiry  which  has  rested  so 
heavily  upon  my  soul  for  weeks — that  she  alone  can 
satisfy  the  disquiet  which  is  mine,  and  which  has,  on 
more  occasions  than  one,  risen  to  my  lips,  and  clamored 
for  utterance.  The  pleasant  and  unrestrained  inter 
view  between  Miss  Rowdon  and  myself  to-day  would 
seem  to  warrant  the  exercise  of  a  sufficient  amount  of 
freedom  to  justify  my  asking  her  for  a  direct  answer  as 
to  her  engagement  with  Aurelius  Munson.  If  she  con 
siders  the  question  a  little  too  delicate  to  be  propounded 
by  me,  in  view  of  our  limited  and  comparatively  short 
acquaintance,  I  believe  she  will  honestly  say  as  much. 
If  there  is  nothing  definite  between  them  in  regard  to 
the  knowledge  I  would  seek  to  obtain,  I  think  she  is 
too  honest,  and  too  sincere  to  seek  to  deceive  me,  or 
to  withhold  from  me  the  information  I  want." 

Thus  John  Parsons  soliloquized  and  followed  up  his 
soliloquy  by  a  full  and  decisive  resolve  to  unfold  his 
inquiry  to  the  consideration  of  Miss  Rowdon,  the  very 
first  opportunity  that  presented  itself. 


220  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

In  the  interim,  between  the  time  that  our  young 
Professor  recorded  this  resolve,  and  the  coming  of  the 
time  in  which  to  carry  out  his  purpose,  he  had  ample 
opportunity  to  fully  mature  the  prudence  and  advisability 
of  the  course  he  had  decided  upon.  Looking  at  the  matter 
in  every  phase  wherein  he  could  bring  his  mind  to 
consider  the  proper  thing  to  be  done;  the  consideration  of 
the  subject  could  not  bring  him  to  a  re-utterance  of 
his  resolve.  He  concluded  there  might  possibly  be  an 
exhibition  of  haste  in  presenting  the  young  lady  with  a 
question  which  delicacy  might  fully  justify  her  in 
declining  to  answer.  But,  even  after  the  second  view 
of  the  situation  had  been  taken,  and  the  second  resolve 
had  been  fully  approbated,  Parsons  still  thought,  in 
view  of  the  secret  influence,  and  possibly  unintentional 
influence  which  Miss  Rowdon  was  exercising  over  him, 
there  could  be  no  possible  impropriety  in  his  asking 
the  question  which  had  so  long  been  a  cause  of 
suspense  and  anxiety.  To  some  opportune  time, 
therefore,  the  propounding  of  his  question  was 
relegated. 

While  these  matters  were  being  discussed,  pro  and 
con,  by  John  Parsons,  it  was  claimed  by  those  who 
pretended  to  have  been  on  the  inside,  that  affairs  of  a 
very  similar  character  were  being  eagerly  and  anxiously 
examined  by  him  whose  horse,  in  heat  and  cold  alike, 
had  so  long,  and  so  often,  been  a  patient  waiter  upon 
his  master's  protracted  visits.  It  was  evident,  as  some 
claimed,  that  there  were  with  Munson  periodic  returns  of 
uneasiness,  and  that  these  periods  were  designated 
by  the  increased  frequency  of  his  visits  to  the  Rowdons. 
Why  he  should,  at  any  time,  have  been  disquieted,  no 
one  knew  except  Miss  Lunata,  and,  as  misery  loves 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  221 

company,  even  if  it  be  bad  company,  Parsons  took 
comfort  in  the  reflection  that  he  was  not  the  only  one 
whom  that  young  lady  was  holding  in  secret  thrall. 

With  the  emotions  of  the  preceptor's  manly  nature  so 
deeply  moved — so  severely  tossed  upon  the  sea  of 
uncertainty,  it  seems  almost  a  wonder  that  he  should 
have  been  able  to  maintain  such  equanimity.  Scarcely 
less  strange  was  it,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  he 
should  have  been  able  to  carry  forward  with  undeviat- 
ing  faithfulness  his  work  in  the  school-room.  This, 
however,  he  did,  and  there  was  no  one,  within  the 
limits  of  his  acquaintance,  who  suspected  that  the 
heart  of  the  young  Professor  had  received  an  awakening 
under  some  occult  power  of  Miss  Rowdon's  especial 
attractions.  In  fact,  he  kept  his  own  counsels — he  did 
his  own  thinking,  and,  neither  from  word  nor  look,  did 
he  ever  betray  the  fact  that  he  was  not  at  perfect 
peace  and  undisturbed  quietude  with  himself  and  the 
rest  of  the  world. 

It  has  been  discovered  from  Parsons'  own  admission 
that  he  was  in  love  with  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  and 
that  he  had  not  made  any  avowal  to  her  of  the 
condition  his  mind  was  in.  It  was  not  timidity  that 
held  in  check  the  disclosure  to  the  young  lady  of  how 
immeasurably  strong  was  the  attachment  which  had 
found  lodgment  in  his  soul  for  her.  It  was  not  cowardice, 
created  by  the  unfortunate  ending  of  his  first  heart- 
entanglement,  for  he  knew  no  widowed  sister  stood 
behind  the  curtains  to  direct  the  thoughts  and  intentions 
of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon.  No,  no  ;  his  reason  for  not 
going  into  the  presence  of  the  young  lady  and  pouring 
out  his  soul's  devotion  was  simply  because  of  his  high 
sense  of  honor.  If  there  was  an  engagement  between 


222  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

Munson  and  Miss  Rowdon,  Parsons  thought  it  would  be 
a  species  of  sacrilege  to  invade  a  territory  in  which  had 
been  planted  the  flowers  of  expectation,  and  around 
which  votive  offerings  of  constancy  had  been  offered. 

The  youthful  Professor  went  and  came,  day  by  day, 
and  even  his  most  intimate  friends  discovered  no 
change  in  his  demeanor.  He  wore  the  same  calm 
expression  ;  he  deported  himself  with  the  same 
dignified  bearing  ;  he  exhibited  the  same  attractive 
urbanity  that  had  ever  marked  him  as  a  high  type  of 
the  true  gentleman. 

But  with  all  this  show  of  deliberate  self-possession, 
there  was  a  storm  in  the  soul  of  Parsons  that  naught 
could  quell  save  the  voice  of  Lunata  Rowdon,  in  a 
negative  answer  to  the  question  he  had  resolved  to 
propound.  Let  this  answer  be  made,  and  the  storm  on 
Galilee  was  not  sooner  stilled  under  the  mandate  of 
the  Prince  of  Peace,  than  would  the  mental  storm  be 
quieted  that  was  rocking  the  craft  which  John  Parsons 
w?s  trying  to  pilot. 

The  opportunity  for  again  meeting  Miss  Rowdon  by 
Parsons,  and  to  which  he  had  so  wistfully  looked 
forward  came,  in  the  by  and  by.  There  was  a  wedding  to 
be  celebrated  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Parsons  had 
been  selected  as  the  groom's  best  man,  while  among 
the  celebrants,  Miss  Rowdon's  name  was  prominent  on 
the  list. 

It  is  but  natural  to  suppose  that  the  young  Professor 
looked  forward  to  this  event  with  no  small  degree  of 
anxiety,  more  especially  so  because  he  had  determined, 
if  he  found  it  possible,  to  set  his  mind  at  rest  in  regard 
to  the  disturbing  question,  by  discovering  the  relations 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  223 

that  existed  between  Miss  Rowdon  and  Munson.  And 
with  this,  as  a  fixed  determination,  he  thought  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  then  give  an  answer  to  the  question — 
What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"O  if  good  heaven  would  be  so  much  my  friend! 
To  let  my  fate  upon  my  choice  depend, 
All  my  remains  of  life  with  her  I'd  spend, 
And  think  mv  stars  had  given  a  happv  end." 

'—Old  ham. 

1   HARDLY  think  it  could  be  said  of  John  Parsons 
!     that  he  was  any  part   of  an   egotist.     Egotism  is 
impudent,  supercilious,  and  domineering.     When 
personified,  it    wears  a    garment  which  covers    a 
multitude  of  faults  of  its  own,  but  looks  with  disdain 
and  contempt  upon  the  short-coming  of  others. 

With  these,  as  the  attributes  of  egotism,  it  would 
have  been  readily  conceded  by  those  who  knew  him, 
that  Parsons  was  too  modest  a  man  in  his  general 
bearing  to  be  considered  opinionated.  In  his  new 
neighborhood,  one  of  the  most  frequently  mentioned 
faults  which  he  was  said  to  have  possessed,  was  his 
reticence  and  over-amount  of  seclusiveness.  But 
while  this  was  said  of  him,  he  was,  in  no  sense  what 
ever,  disposed  to  play  the  hermit ;  on  the  contrary  he 
evinced  a  fondness  for  society,  and  at  the  proper  time, 
and  under  favorable  circumstances,  he  not  only  sought 
the  pleasure  of  good  society,  but  unostentatiously  orna 
mented  it. 

Professor  Parsons,  for  such  was  the  title  which  Miss 
Rowdon  was  the  first  to  impose,  had  been,  ever  since 
the  unforgotton  ending  of  his  first  heart-disturbing  love 
affair,  a  most  earnest  and  painstaking  student  of 
psychology  and  physiognomy.  His  interested  exami 
nations  of  these  sciences,  had  led  him  to  the  assump 
tion,  as  has  been  before  stated,  that  there  were 
expressions  of  the  soul  which  the  lips  could  not  inter- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  225 

pret  in  words,  and  therefore  could  not  counterfeit.  He 
maintained  that  it  was  a  voiceless  language — eloquent 
in  its  power  of  pathetic  pleading — solemn  in  its  reve 
lations  of  sorrow — exuberant  in  its  satisfaction  over 
the  fullness  of  joy,  and  pain  over  a  saddening  disap 
pointment.  To  the  student,  who  had  made  himself 
conversant  with  this  voiceless  and  untongued  symbol 
ism  of  the  soul,  he  averred  could  be  deciphered  some  of 
the  sublimest  emotions  of  woman's  spiritual  nature. 
He  assumed  that  their  lips  might  essay  to  deal  in 
falsehood,  but,  unless  schooled  in  perfidy  and  kindred 
wickedness,  there  would  mount  from  the  soul  mute 
contradictions.  Eyes,  he  claimed,  were  the  windows 
of  spiritual  natures,  and, as  these  spirits  peep  from  behind 
and  through  their  curtained  caskets,  fresh  harbingers 
from  the  school  of  untainted  morals — tell  no  lies. 

This  opinion  he  reiterated,  because  he  was  so  soon  to 
make  a  test  of  his  formulated  conclusionsjin  the  examin 
ation  of  Miss  Rowdon  upon  a  question  of  absorbing 
interest  to  him.  He  had  studied,  as  far  as  was  in  his 
power,  the  essential  characteristics  of  the  young  lady. 
The  conclusion,  from  his  investigations,  was,  that 
she  was  the  soul  of  honor  and  the  embodiment  of 
honesty.  But,  despite  the  decision  to  which  he  had 
arrived,  he  felt  it  would  be  well  to  have  security 
doubly  secure  by  making  an  application  of  his  new 
study,  in  determining  the  absolute  sincerity  of  every 
answer  the  young  lady  might  make  to  his  supremely 
important  questionings.  What  the  leading  inquiry  would 
be,  he  had  fully  decided  upon,  and  he  did  not  want 
any  mistake  to  occur. 

WHAT  NEXT? — 15. 


226  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

While  Parsons  believed  that  Miss  Rowdon  would 
readily  and  truthfully  answer  the  questions  to  which, 
in  his  catechism,  he  proposed  to  subject  her,  he  had 
no  waj*  of  deciding,  with  perfect  certainty,  as  to  whether 
the  answer  she  might  give  would  satisfy  and  ease  his 
hungry  soul.  He  knew  she  might  consider  it  a  piece 
of  presumption  upon  his  part  to  undertake  to  quiz  her 
in  regard  to  the  existing  relations  between  her  and 
Munson,  and  if  this  proved  to  be  the  issue  of  their 
first  interview,  he  would  then  have  to  abandon 
all  hope  of  ever  climbing  higher  in  her  estimation. 
He  thought,  however,  that  there  were  too  sides  to  the 
question,  and  he  intended  to  keep  the  lamp  of  Hope, 
for  the  intervening  time,  well  trimmed,  and  be  on  the 
lookout  for  light  ahead.  It  would  be  a  venture  at  least; 
but,  let  the  result  be  what  it  might,  his  determination 
was  to  seek  to  hear  from  Miss  Lunata's  own  lips,  what 
she  might  be  willing  to  intrust  to  him  in  regard  to  her 
relations  with  Aurelius  Munson.  Somehow,  he  seemed 
to  be  impressed  with  the  idea  that  she  would  not 
waive  an  answer  to  what  he  wanted  to  know.  He 
determined,  however,  that  he  would  proceed  with 
prudent  caution  upon  the  execution  of  his  well  digested 
purpose,  and  leave  the  issue  to  the  young  lady. 

Some  one  has  planted  an  absurdity  among  our 
household  adages,  which  is,  "The  watched  pot  never 
boils."  To  say  that  time  in  its  passing  appears  to 
travel  exceeding  slow  to  the  watcher  for  the  coming  of 
some  anxiously  expected  event  is  a  verity,  and  if  the 
"watched  pot"  means  this,  then  an  untruth  is  converted 
into  a  homely  illustration  of  a  truism.  It  really 
seemed  to  Parsons  that  the  days  dragged — that  the 
weeks  went  at  a  rate  of  travel  which  laggards  make. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  227 

Under  the  pressure  of  anxiety  which  he  wore,  when  the 
morning  came,  he  was  ready  for  the  night,  and  when 
the  night  came,  it  found  him  a  watcher,  when  he  ought 
to  have  been  in  the  land  of  dreams.  He  became  a 
wooer  of  the  star-robed  goddess  of  the  skies  until  the  wee 
small  hours  were  all  that  Somnus  gave  for  a  dreamy 
sleep 

At  length  the  morning  of  the  eventful  day  came  which 
was  to  bring  to  John  Parsons,  as  he  supposed,  an 
answer  to  his  momentous  question — an  answer  which 
might  turn  the  whole  current  of  his  future  life — an 
answer  which  would  either  awaken  emotions  of 
unspeakable  delight,  or  cast  a  brooding  shadow  over 
the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  one  who  acknowledged 
himself  to  be  held  in  thrall  by  her  from  whom  the 
answer  was  to  come.  The  morning  of  the  day,  in 
which  Parsons  was  to  be  put  through  a  crucial  test, 
dawned  in  the  fullness  and  brightness  of  early  autumn's 
variegated  plumage.  The  air  was  redolent  with  the 
ordor  exhaled  from  the  luminous -leaves.  Indeed,  if 
the  outlook  could  be  considered  prophetic,  nature  was 
robed  in  prophecy's  array. 

Parsons  had  conned  his  lesson  well.  He  could, 
therefore,  start  out  upon  his  tour  of  investigation  with 
matured  deliberation.  He  knew  Munson  would  be  at 
the  wedding,  and  it  was  with  especial  pleasure  that  he 
anticipated  seeing  Miss  Rowdon  and  that  gentleman 
meet.  In  that  meeting,  he  believed  he  would  be  able 
to  discover  an  important  revelation,  bearing  upon  what 
he  most  devoutly  wished  to  know.  Seeing  them 
together,  as  he  supposed  he  would,  during  the  evening 
of  the  wedding,  he  felt  that  possibly  something  might 
be  opened  to  his  view  which  would  be  a  help  to  him  in 


228  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

drawing  conclusions — a  kind  of  stepping  stone  from 
imperious  doubt  and  darkness  to  better  assurance  and 
more  light.  Should  an  opportunity  present  itself ;  from 
making  a  practical  application  of  the  rules  of  his 
recently  studied  lessons  in  metaphysics,  he  believed  the 
hoped-for  revelations  would  be  discovered. 

The  evening  for  the  wedding  solemnities  drew  on 
apace — the  company  of  invited  guests  began  to  assem 
ble,  and  much  of  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of  the 
country  that  boasted  in  having  very  much  of  both, 
were  gathering,  as  witnesses  to  the  placing  of  a  new 
votive  offering  upon  Hymen's  altar.  Parsons  being  one 
of  the  officiating  attendents,  went  to  the  festal  scene  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  general  throng,  and,  in  accord 
ance  with  the  custom  of  the  times,  was  not  only  to  act 
as  "best  man,"  but  was  also  appointed  upon 
the  reception  committee.  The  last  named  office,  of 
course,  brought  him  face  to  face  with  a  very  large 
number  of  the  guests,  as  they  severally  arrived.  But,  as 
is  always  the  case,  there  were  a  number  who  were  so- 
tardy  in  their  coming  that  Parsons  did  not  get  to  see 
them,  being  called  to  the  waiting  room  of  the  bride  and 
groom  that  he  might  receive  some  instructions  in 
regard  to  his  duties  preparatory  to  the  marital  cere 
monies. 

All  preliminaries  being  fully  settled,  the  wed 
ding  party  moved  to  the  parlor-ilkAs  it  passed 
through  the  corridor,  there  was  a  Hist !  and  an  answer 
thereto  was  discovered  in  the  hush  of  the  hum  of 
voices — in  the  cessation  of  fan-rattling  and  the  craning 
of  necks  to  get  a  better  view  of  those  who  were  embark 
ing  upon  the  sea  of  matrimony. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  229 

The  wedding  ceremony  was  short,  but  the  knot 
which  the  grey-headed  minister  tied,  seemed  to  be 
strong  enough  to  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  a 
matrimonial  pilgrimage,  let  the  journey  be  ever  so 
long. 

The  ceremony  completed,  congratulations  were  next 
in  order.  These  were  warm-hearted  and  generous 
expressions  of  good-wishes.  Nothing  stilted  or  formal. 
Every  expression  of  "We  love  you,"  and  "God  be  with 
you,"  came  as  a  cheerful  offering  from  the  hearts  of 
well-wishing  friends. 

Congratulations  finished,  the  larger  part  of  the 
assembled  guests,  preceded  by  the  bride,  bride-groom 
and  attendants,  passed  into  the  dining-hall.  Only  with 
individuals  who  hold  in  memory  the  style  of  the 
wedding  feasts  of  the  long  ago,  does  a  picture  remain  of 
w'hat  they  really  were.  The  glitter  and  tinsel  of  modern 
display  was  conspicuously  absent,  but,  in  their  stead, 
the  bounteous  blessings  of  a  God-favored  country  made 
most  liberal  contributions  upon  such  occasions. 
Tables  fairly  groaned  under  the  delicious  viands 
which  were  spread  in  unstinted  abundance,  and 
0,  my !  such  cookery  !  The  ebony-faced  Aunt 
Dinahs  of  that  day  were  regular  artists  in  their 
profession,  and  gloried  in  their  skill.  But,  gone  forever, 
are  those  days  of  uncorrupted  gladness.  Gone  and 
gone  forever,  are  the  palatable  and  luscious  viands 
which  Parsons'  young  manhood  knew.  Modern  cookery, 
except  in  pastery  and  relishes,  is  a  sham  and  a  slander 
upon  the  profession. 

Supper  having  been  dispatched  and  the  company 
having  re-assembled  in  the  parlor  and  library;  just  as 
soon  as  another  young  man  took  charge  of  Parsons' 


230  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

co-attendant,  he  was  on  the  qm  vive  for  making  dis 
coveries. 

He  had  met  a  number  of  young  ladies  while  acting  as 
one  of  the  reception  committee,  and  meeting  them 
again  after  the  banquet,  he  was  by  them  introduced  to 
other  young  ladies,  and,  in  the  company  of  all  these 
was  making  himself  especially  agreeable;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  was  keeping  his  eyes  wide  open  for  the 
main  chance.  He  had  not  met  Miss  Rowdon,  but 
knew  she  was  present,  and  running  his  eyes  over  the  as 
sembly  he  saw  she  was  engaged  in  a  spirited  conversa 
tion  with  one  of,  his  acquaintances,  while  Munson  was 
playing  the  part  of  a  restive  listener. 

On  this  occasion  Parsons  appeared  to  a  very  decided 
advatage.  He  was  tidily  attired  in  an  elegant  and 
well  fitting  suit  which  set  off  his  comely  shape  to  fine 
effect,  and  he  seemed  to  realize  that  a  part,  at  least,  of 
the  general  enjoyableness  of  the  evening  devolved 
upon  him,  because  of  the  prominence  of  the  parts 
to  which  he  had  been  assigned.  Without  any  show  of 
ostentation,  he  therefore  seemed  to  be  disposed  to  study 
how  he  could  best  make  every  one  feel  that  joy  "should 
be  unconfined."  But  while  he  was  aiming  by  word 
and  act  to  contribute  to  the  enjoyment  of  every  body 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  ;  remember  gentle 
reader,  that  beneath  his  smiles — beneath  his  apparent 
vivacity,  there  was  a  heart  which  had  long  throbbed  in 
real  unrest. 

Without  wishing  to  make  an  exhibit  of  a  pair  of 
eyes  that  were  unbecomingly  inquisitive,  he  furtively 
took  a  look  at  Miss  Rowdon  as  she  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room.  She  was  standing  in  just 
such  a  position  as  that  the  light  fell  upon  her  so  as  to 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  231 

bring  out  the  effect  of  the  shadows  in  her  drapery  to 
the  finest  advantage.  Her  raven  curls  gathered  them 
selves  in  love-knots  and  rings  all  over  her  head.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  with  the  freshness  of  budding  womanhood, 
for  she  was,  as  yet  only  seventeen.  If  not  a  sylph,  she 
at  least  resembled  that  to  which  poetic  fancy  attaches 
wings  and  sends  on  love  errands  through  the  upper  air. 
O  you  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  listen  !  If  the  ecstatic 
delight  of  that  furtive  look  could  have  been  understood 
and  appreciated  by  her  upon  whom  it  was  bestowed, 
she  would  have  claimed  it  to  be  an  act  of  sublime 
devotion,  and  in  her  vestal  purity,  would  have  asked, 
"What  more  must  I  demand?" 

For  a  good  part  of  the  evening  this  same  kind  of 
eye-adoration  was  continued,  and  although  it  was  an 
offering  made  in  the  greatest  secrecy,  it  was  a  love- 
offering  nevertheless.  Parsons  was  anxious,  but,  at  the 
same  time  discreet.  He  had  continued  an  eye- worship  of 
his  girl-idol  through  a  good  part  of  the  evening,  and  he 
noted  her  effort  to  entertain  those  writh  whom  she  had 
talked,  but  discovered  not  so  much  as  the  first  letter  in 
the  alphabet  of  her  eye-speaking  language.  If  there  was 
any  member  of  the  company  for  whom  she  carried  a 
higher  degree  of  esteem  than  she  did  for  any  other,  she 
had  adroitly  concealed  the  fact. 

That  Parsons  refrained  from  seeking  to  do  himself  a 
pleasure,  which  he  coveted  above  every  other,  grew  out 
of  his  prudent  caution.  Had  he  sought  her  company 
in  the  early  part  of  the  evening,  to  lay  before  her  what 
he  had  determined  should  be  made  his  chief  purpose 
at  this  gathering,  he  thought  his  earnest  excitement 
might  possibly  attract  attention.  This  he  especially 
wished  to  avoid.  If  he  undertook  to  play  the  agree- 


232  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

able  in  the  early  evening,  without  approaching  the 
subject  which  to  him  was  so  all-ijnportant,  and  later 
should  withdraw  with  her  from  the  crowd  of  busy 
talkers  to  do  some  very  special  talking  for  himself,  he 
wras  apprehensive  that  there  might  possibly  be  created 
some  suspicion.  This  he  also  wished  to  avoid. 

The  evening  was  waning  before  he  sought  the  side  of 
Miss  Rowdon.  At  a  time  when  there  was  a  lull  in  the 
buzz  of  the  conversation,  and  a  number  of  the  guests 
had  taken 'their  departure,  Parsons  walked  over  to 
where  the  young  lady  was  standing,  and  extending  his 
hand  gave  her  the  cordial  greeting  of  a  friend.  She 
chided  him  for  his  manifested  neglect  during  the 
evening,  and  reminded  him  of  his  having  stated,  not 
many  weeks  before,  that  he  had  placed  her  name  at 
the  head  of  his  list  of  female  friends,  and  asked  him 
if  he  did  not  feel  he  had  been  slighting  the  captain  of 
his  company.  Parsons  remarked  that  he  had  not  been 
disposed  to  interrupt  the  very  pleasant  and  agreeable 
conversation  she  seemed  to  have  been  holding  with  the 
young  men  who  were  so  continuously  making  show  of 
their  enjoyment.  He  remarked  further  that  he 
hardljr  thought  she  would,  under  the  circumstances, 
file  an  accusation  of  neglect  against  him,  or  for  one 
moment  think  him  capable  of  slighting  her. 

The  older  people  who  had  been  among  the  guests 
were  nearly  all  gone,  and  some  of  the  young  folks  as 
well.  The  home  was  by  no  means  deserted,  however, 
and  Parsons  said  that  if  possible  he  would  make 
amends  for  his  seeming  inattention,  and  expressing  a 
desire  to  have  a  little  private  talk  with  her,  she  accom 
panied  him  to  the  drawing  room,  which  had  been 
temporarily  deserted,  except  by  two  of  the  bride's  boy 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  233 

brothers.  This  field  and  fort  Parsons  resolved  to 
hold  long  enough  to  bring  forward  his  purpose  in 
making  known  to  Miss  Lunata  the  introduction  to 
a  plan  for  discovering  something  which  his  very  soul 
panted  to  know. 

Leading  the  young  lady  to  an  open  cabinet  which 
stood  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  standing  with  one 
arm  resting  upon  it,  he  looked  her  squarely 
in  the  face,  and  with  an  expression  of  deep 
seriousness,  as  well  as  with  unmistakable  earnestness, 
began  by  telling  her  he  was  in  trouble,  and  that  he 
had  been  nursing  his  trouble  until  his  trouble  had  become 
almost  unbearable  pain.  He  told  her  that  he  believed 
she  could,  if  she  felt  disposed,  remove  the  terrible 
incubus  and  relieve  him  of  a  severe  mental  strain. 

Observing  that  Miss  Rowdon  seemed  somewhat  moved 
by  this  speech,  and  noting  the  look  of  surprise  which 
spread  over  her  face,  Parsons  at  once  saw  that  she 
misconstrued  the  preface  to  what  he  had  to  commu 
nicate,  and  rallied  her,  by  an  assurance  that  his  was 
not  a  case  of  blood  or  crime,  and  that  therefore,  while 
he  would  sanction  her  wearing  a  momentary  look  of  sur 
prise,  he  did  not  want  her  to  be  scared  or  even  excited, 
for  he  had  no  tale  of  secret  malevolence  to  unfold — no 
blood  curdling  midnight  meaness  to  reveal.  His  was  a 
case  of  concealed  perplexity — a  case  of  hidden  anxiety 
which  was  neither  the  product  of  a  violation  of  civil 
or  moral  law.  He  bade  her  dispel  her  fears,  if  she  had 
any,  and  remember  that  he  came  to  her  for  help,  such 
as  the  agonizing  son  of  sorrow  would  seek  from 
one  who  had  pity.  He  told  her  that  she  held  in  her 
possession  a  secret — a  secret  at  least  from  him,  which 
by  revealing  to  him,  would  remove  from  his  mind  a 
great  weight  of  torturing  doubt. 


234  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

Before  letting  Miss  Lunata  know,  however,  by  what 
question  he  proposed  to  draw  from  her  the  secret  he 
sought  to  know,  he  stated  that  the  query  which  he 
would  make,  with  her  permission,  he  would  present 
with  the  distinct  understanding  that  when  his  interrog 
atory  had  been  submitted,  she  was  not  to  make  her 
answer  conditioned  upon  his  explaining  for  her  the 
reason  for  the  submission  of  the  question.  At  the  same 
time,  however,  he  assured  her  that  if  her  answer  should 
be  what  he  suspected  it  would  be,  her  inquisitive- 
ness  would  be  satisfactorily  quieted  in  the  very  near 
future,  and  himself  vindicated  for  the  search  he  had 
made. 

There  was  an  assurance  given  Miss  Lunata  that  the 
matter  which  he  then  had  in  hand  was  not  of  a  light 
or  frivolous  character  ;  that  upon  its  issue  there  was 
possibly  appended  the  weal  or  woe  of  one  human 
being. 

Parsons,  with  the  very  look  of  honest  ingenuousness 
spread  all  over  his  face,  told  the  young  lady,  that,  from 
the  character  of  their  recent  interviews,  he  had,  with 
her  consent,  made  the  register  to  which  she,  but  a 
moment  before  had  referred,  and  in  which  registration 
her  name  had  stood  at  the  top.  This  permission  to 
place  her  name  first  in  the  list  of  his  (choicest  female 
friends,  he  regarded  as  tantamount  to  the  privilege  of 
exercising  some  of  the  rights  of  a  warm  personal  friend 
ship,  and  under  the  privilege  so  conferred,  he  desired  to 
ask  his  question,  over  the  pledge  of  his  individual 
honor,  that  under  no  circumstances  should  her  name, 
as  a  lady  or  friend,  be  compromised  in  the  least, 
because  of  her  answering  the  proposed  question,  nor 
would  one  single  word  of  dissatisfaction  escape  his 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  235 

lips,  provided  she  refused  to  answer  the  question  which 
should  be  asked.  As  a  matter  of  more  than  ordinary 
interest  to  him,  he  told  her  he  felt  half-disposed  to 
plead  with  her  in  advance  for  an  answer,  but,  without 
resorting  to  that,  he  said  he  would  leave  that  decision 
to  her  own  good  judgment. 

The  auditor  stood  in  the  presence  of  Prof.  Parsons  as 
though  she  were  rooted  to  the  spot.  The  surprise,  that 
had  but  a  moment  or  two  previous  indicated  a  consider 
able  amount  of  sudden  excitement,  had  disappeared,  and 
in  its  stead  the  flush  of  wonderment  had  taken  possession 
of  her  face.  Indeed,  if  her  expression  could  have  been 
translated,  it  would  have  been,  "What  can  all  this 
mean?"  She  listened  with  unabating  interest  to  all 
the  Professor  had  to  say,  and  when  he  reached  a 
momentary  pause  in  what  he  was  saying,  she  seemed 
to  recover  from  her  surprise  sufficiently  to  begin  a 
mental  wrestling  with  her  very  peculiar  position,  and 
invoked  the  aid  of  Heaven  and  her  own  intutions  in 
leading  her  to  do  what  was  exactly  right.  As  her 
thoughts  chased  each  other  in  quick  and  rapid  succes 
sion  through  her  active  mind,  she  was  ready  to  admit 
that  herself  seemed  to  be  the  one  whose  inquiry  ought 
now  to  be  answered.  That  there  was  a  vagueness,  an 
indefiniteness,  and,  at  the  same  time,  an  apparent, 
honesty  and  sincerety  in  all  he 'had  said,  she  was 
ready  to  concede.  But,  to  what  does  he  refer,  when  speak 
ing  of  a  momentous  question,  the  answer  to  which  is 
lodged  in  a  poor  girl  nature  like  mine,  thought  Miss 
Lunata,  who,  in  turn,  seemed  to  have  caught  the 
infection  of  the  Professor's  questioning  and  was  full 
of  one  herself. 


236  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

Raising  her  face,  and  turning  her  questioning  eyes 
into  those  of  John  Parsons,  she  said  in  tones  of 
beseeching  tenderness  :  "Mj-  friend,  for  such  I  must 
consider  you,  and  in  turn  would  seek  to  prove  myself 
as  entitled  to  be  so  esteemed  by  you,  I  am  frank  to 
own  my  incapacity  to  understand,  as  I  think  I  ought  to 
understand  them,  either  your  position  or  my  own  in 
regard  to  the  question  that  yet  remains  unasked.  Do 
not,  therefore,  I  beseech  you,  keep  me  longer  in  a  state 
of  painful  suspense.  Unmask  your  question.  Let  me 
know  to  what  it  refers.  Tf  it  relates  to  me,  let  me 
know  it.  With  the  honor-bound  guarantee  that  I  am 
in  no  way  to  be  compromised  by  answering  your  ques 
tion,  I  am  read\"  to  be  put  upon  the  witness  stand. 
Let  me  say,  however,  Prof.  Parsons,  that  I  regret  you 
should  have  forestalled  the  liberty  of  my  asking  any 
question,  after  my  answer  shall  have  been  given,  that 
would  alleviate  uneasiness  in  my  mind,  created  by 
your  interrogatory.  However,  you  can  submit  your 
query,  and,  if  in  my  power,  I  will  pledge  you  a  truthful 
reply,  and  will  bide  my  time  for  fuller  revelations." 

Gratification  and  exuberant  ]oy  overflowed  the  eyes 
of  Parsons  as  his  soul  looked  through  them  and 
evinced  its  gladness,  that  the  first  difficulty  had  been  sur 
mounted.  To  express  the  delight  that  he  felt,  in  view  of 
what  he  had  achieved,  was  more  than  he  could  do.  He 
was  dumb  in  the  presence  of  the  lady,  for  whom  he 
had  a  feeling  akin  to  adoration,  but  which  had  been 
barred  egress  to  his  lips,  and  which  even  then,  though 
struggling  for  utterance  that  the  over-loaded  soul  might 
be  at  ease,  was  beaten  back — bid  remain  in  prison, 
and  wear  its  fetters  till  a  surer  time  for  deliverance 
came.  There  may  be  light  ahead,  thought  Parsons, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  237 

but  imagined  it  would  be  immature  to  praise  its 
brightness  yet.  The  clouds  may  be  breaking  away, 
thought  he,  but  there  is  too  much  haze  hanging  about 
the  horizon  yet,  for  me  to  be  over-confident. 

Recovering  himself  sufficiently  to  speak  in  his  ordi- 
dinary  manner,  Prof.  Parsons  addressed  Miss  Rowdon, 
and  asked  the  privilege  of  thanking  her  from  a  full 
heart  for  the  promise  she  had  just  made.  He  declared 
that  should  he  attempt  to  make  a  better  offering  than 
this  expression  of  thanks,  his  heart  would  overflow. 
He  said  he  supposed  she  knew  what  that  meant,  if  not, 
he  would  explain.  He  said  he  did  not  want  to  be  con 
verted  into  a  mute,  and,  as  his  question  of  questions 
yet  remained  unworded,  he  wanted  the  privilege  to  still 
be  allowed  him  of  asking  that  question — a  question 
the  answer  to  which  might  carry  with  it  portentious 
results  for  the  weal  or  woe,  of  possibly  more  than  one 
poor  soul. 

While  engaged  in  this  conversation,  of  which  there 
is  only  an  obstract  herein  recorded,  and  when  reference 
had  been  made  to  woman's  curiosity,  Miss  Rowdon 
asked  Prof.  Parsons  the  following  questions:  "Do  you 
know,"  said  she,  "that  the  accusation  brought  against 
woman  in  regard  to  her  overweening  curiosity,  is  said 
to  have  had  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  our  original 
mother  had  an  aesthetic  taste,  the  equal  of  which 
earth  has  never  known  since  her  fall  ?  I  believe  it ; 
and  inasmuch  as  a  fondness  for  something  as  a  pet 
was  an  inherent  quality  in  her  organism,  I  believe  that 
in  her  admiration  for  something  beautiful  to  fondle  as  a 
pet,  she  selected  the  most  lovely  creature,  barring  a 
human  intelligence,  that  lived  anywhere  in  Eden.  The 
despoiler  of  human  hope,  and  the  prime  author  of 


"238  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

death,  in  open,  and  daring  antagonism  to  the  author  of 
light,  life,  and  love,  determined  upon  the  destruction  of 
the  race  of  men  by  the  corruption  of  its  original 
mother.  To  accomplish  his  fell  purpose,  he  decoyed 
Eve's  pet  into  his  conspiracy  and  made  it  the  medium 
•of  accomplishing  her  ruin.  It  must  have  been  thus,  for 
if  not,  why  by  Heaven's  authority  was  Eve's  pet  meta 
morphosed  into  a  snake — hideous  thing — the  ever  living 
mark  of  God's  wrath.  Eve  had  her  curiosity  and  her 
daughters  still  carry  it.  Remember  then,  Prof.  Parsons, 
that  I  am  a  woman, and, as  such,  am  not  superior  to  my 
race.  I  have  a  curiosity  that  you  have  subjected  to  a 
very  severe  test,  but  I  assure  you  it  shall  be  held  in 
abeyance,  to  await  the  explanation  that  is,  at  some 
time,  to  make  your  question  intelligible.1' 

"To  '  ask  for  an  answer  to  the  query  I  am  about 
to  make  may  be  wrong,  Miss  Rowdon,  and 
should  you  think  so,  I  crave  your  pardon  in  advance. 
I  have  carried  the  matter  for  a  long  time  as  a  grief- 
burden,  and,  having  given  its  consideration  earnest  and 
•careful  study,  cannot  find  anything  wrong  in  my  seek 
ing  relief  at  your  hands.  Even  if  there  was  the 
appearance  of  an  impropriety  in  what  I  am  about  to 
say,  there  are  mitigating  circumstances  connected  there 
with  which  plead  loudly  in  extenuation  of  what  might 
otherwise  seem  wholly  wrong.  If  I  can,  however,  find 
shelter  from  censure  no  where  else,  I  can  surely  rely  on 
finding  a  pleader,  in  vindication  of  my  course,  in  your 
•own  noble  and  charitable  self.  If  this  refuge  is  denied 
me,  and  you  should  decide  that  I  have  transcended  the 
bounds  of  polite  and  gentlemanly  decorum,  I  shall 
•be  wretched  indeed." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  239 

"The  longer  the  certain  sacrfice  is  postponed,  after 
the  fire  has  been  built,  the  keener  will  be  the  appreci 
ation  of  the  agonizing  torture  that  is  yet  in  anticipation. 
The  fire  is  burning,  prof.  Parsons.  The  victim  is  ready. 
You  are  the  executioner.  Delay  not  the  infliction  of 
your  blow.  The  victim  will  not  wince  if  you  strike 
now." 

"Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  since  the  day  when  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  Agamemnon  was  set  apart  as  a 
sacrifice  to  satisfy  the  caprice  of  Diana,  I  can  not 
think  of  an  intended  immolation  which  would  have 
more  the  appearance  of  a  savage  desecration  than  to 
subject  you  to  the  injustices  of  having  to  make  the 
slightest  personal  sacrifice  of  your  wishes  because  of  a 
question  that  yet  lingers  unspoken  upon  my  lips.  I  am 
indeed  no  Calchas.  I  come  not  as  a  herald  of  bad 
news.  No,  no  !  the  lovely  Iphigenia,  in  her  innocence, 
appealed  to  the  obdurate  heart  of  the  chaste  Diana, 
and  instead  of  being  immolated  upon  the  altar  which 
had  been  erected  for  her  destruction,  she  was  made  a 
priestess  in  the  Taurian  temple  of  the  goddess.  Then 
come  not  to  me,  Miss  Lunata,  I  beg  of  you,  as  one 
who  brings  any  sacrificial  offering.  Consider  yourself 
as  wholly  absolved  from  even  the  barest  suspicion  of 
having  wronged  anything  or  anybody.  Intentionally,  I 
know  this  is  something  you  could  not  do.  If  I, 
for  one  moment  thought  you  would  craftily  seek  to 
wound  the  heart  of  any  one,  the  question,  now  resting 
upon  my  trembling  lips  and  clamoring  for  utterance, 
would  remain  forever  unworded." 

"No  contrition,  no  repentance,  no  sadness,  no  sorrow, 
nor  any  of  the  concomitant  train  of  distresses,  I  hope 
need  be  expected  in  one  long  retinue,  Miss  Lunata, 


240  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

because  I  have  had  the  presumption,  (for  such  you 
may  consider  it)  to  subject  you  to  a  catechism  upon 
one  particular  subject.  Grow  not  dissatisfied  that  I 
come  to  you  at  this  hour.  I  come  not,  it  is  true,  with 
any  ready  offering,  but  be  you  like  the  lovely  pagan 
Iphigenia  at  least  in  one  respect.  Enter  boldly  upon 
your  pontificial  duty,  and  at  least  allow  me  the  priv 
ilege  of  laying  upon  the  altar  about  which  you  officiate 
a  gift,  be  it  ever  so  small.  Mine  it  is,  not  yours  to 
bring  a  sacrifice.  It  is  your  prerogative  to  say  whether 
what  I  bring  is  worthy  of  your  consideration." 

"From  the'  remarks  you  have  just  made,  Miss- 
Rowdon,  I  am  led  to  suspect  that  you  are  still  ignorant 
of  the  matter  I  have  in  hand — the  matter  I  have  been 
trying  to  prepare  your  mind  for,  and  that  you  may  no 
longer  be  kept  in  a  state  of  suspense  and  uncertainty, 
I  will  state  in  round  and  distinct  terms  that  my 
question  immediately  concerns  you,  otherwise  I  would 
not  have  come  to  you  with  it." 

"Is  it  really  so?  I  the  party  whom  your  inquiry 
chiefly  concerns  ?  This  is  to  me  very  strange.  How  is 
it,  Professor,  that  I  am  the  only  person  concerned  in 
this  matter  ?  I  presume  I  am  not  violating  my  pledge 
to  ask  that  much." 

"You  misunderstood  me,  Miss  Rowdon,  I  did  not  say 
you  were  the  only  person  concerned  in  my  investiga 
tion,  nor  do  I  now  say  so.  But  I  said,  and  still  say, 
the  matter  of  my  research  immediately  concerns  you." 

"Well,  Professor,  you  can  proceed  with  your  scrutin 
izing  research,  if  you  please,  and  should  I  be  disposed 
to  grow  curious  to  know  anything  my  pledge  would 
bar  me  from  asking  about,  a  word  or  a  lifted  finger 
would  be  sufficient  to  check  my  curiosity." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  241 

"Without  further  preliminaries,  MissRowdon,  I  pre 
sume  you  are  aware  that  for  more  than  a  year  you  have 
been  a  neighborhood  target  for  common  gossip.  But 
while  I  say  this,  I  would  have  3*011  know,  however, 
that  not  one  syllable  has  ever  been  whispered  which 
would  impinge  upon  your  immaculate  purity.  And  I 
can  further  assure  you  that  had  there  been  a  symptom 
of  any  imputation  of  doubt  in  regard  to  your  reputa 
tion  as  a  lady,  a  battalion  of  young  men  would  have 
sprung  into  avenging  array,  and  with  knightly  courage 
would  have  vindicated  your  innocence.  No,  no,  it  was 
not  this,  but  tongues  would  wag.  Not  in  malevolence, 
but  they  would  wag.  The  reason  for  the  gossip,  was 
in  consequence  of  there  being  two  reports  continually 
afloat  in  your  vicinity  in  regard  to  your  relations  with 
Aurelius  Munson.  One  report  had  it,  that  you  were 
engaged  to  Munson,  and  that  you  were  only  deferring 
the  marriage  because  of  your  youthfulness.  The  other 
report  was,  that  you  were  not  engaged  to  him  and 
never  had  been — that  you  only  tolerated  his  attentions 
in  defference  to  the  wishes  of  your  father.  Now,  Miss 
Rowdon,  to  my  question.  It  is  simply  this.  Which 
of  these  reports,  if  either,  is  true  ?  But  before  you 
begin  one  syllable  of  your  answer,  let  me  assure  you, 
that,  although  you  have  pledged  me  a  candid  reply  if 
in  your  power,  you  are  absolved  from  that  obligation 
and  your  answer  left  wholly  optional  with  you." 

"  You  are  certainly  very  generous,  Prof.  Parsons,  and 
when  you  shall  have  come  to  know'  me  better,  should 
that  ever  be,  you  will  then  know  that  I  do  not  like  to 
be  outdone  in  generosity.  I  am  obliged  to  you 
for  your  kind  consideration  ;  but,  inasmuch  as  I  gave 

WHAT  NEXT? — 16. 


242  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

the  pledge  referred  to,  with  full  knowledge  of  the  bind 
ing  obligation  of  my  promise,  you  will  allow  me  to 
respectfully  decline  the  offer  of  absolution  from  that 
pledge.  Inasmuch,  Professor,  as  your  questions  are 
not  interrogatory  but  declaratory,  I  will  state  that  the 
second  declaration,  or  second  stated  report  is  true. 
There  now  !  Well,  it  is  said  that  an  honest  confession 
is  good  for  the  soul.  If  this  be  true,  the  soul  of  one 
poor  girl  ought  to  feel  relieved,  for  I  have  confessed  to 
you,  Professor,  a  truth  which  has  been  made  to  no 
other  man  ;  still  this  confession  brings  no  relief  to  me, 
except  that  I  take  comfort  in  the  thought  that  I  have  a 
gentleman  confidant.  '  But  while  this  confession  brings 
me  no  relief,  it  is  pleasurable  nevertheless,  for  two 
different  and  specia'l  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  I  am 
gratified  to  be  able  to  do  something  that  you  have 
assured  me  would  give  you  especial  delight,  and,  in  the 
second  place,  it  has  furnished  me  a  friend  into  whose 
sympathizing  ears  I  can  tell  my  troubles,  without 
having  them  given  to  common  gossipers  to  be  bandied 
throughout  the  neighborhood.  I  have  sighed  for  some 
one  with  whom  I  could  take  counsel — some  one  upon 
whose  judgment  I  could  rely,  for  you  must  know  that 
with  such  enviroments  as  are  mine,  I  need  some  one 
to  whom  I  can  look  for  help.  You  have  given  me  a 
place  among  your  especial  female  friends,  and  I  have 
an  abundant  confidence  in  your  good  sense  and  sound 
judgment.  I  think  I  can  safely  confide  in  you.  But 
have  you  decided  to  postpone  indefinitely  the  explana 
tion  of  your  reason  for  keeping  me  in  a  state  of 
suspense?  This  is  very  unsatisfactory,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  However,  with  the  stoic  fortitude  of  a  true 
woman,  I  will  show  you  that  I  can  wait — watch — and 
wonder— What  Next?" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"When  love's  well-tim'd  'tis  not  a  fault  to  love; 
The  strong,  the  brave,  the  virtuous  and  the  wise 
Sink  in  the  soft  captivity  together." 

— Addison. 

"In  many  ways  does  the  full  heart  reveal 
The  presence  of  the  love  it  would  conceal," 

— Coleridge. 

W|i4lTH  the  waning  hours  of  the  evening,  the 
•  II  company  which  had  been  in  attendance  upon 
J  I  to  the  wedding  had  nearly  all  disappeared.  A  few, 

^^^^^^^ 

however,  still  lingered,  as  though  loth  to  vacate 
a  place  in  which  they  had  found  so  much  enjoyment. 
Among  those  who  still  remained,  were  John  Parsons 
and  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon.  These  two  were  still 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation  in  the  corner  of  the 
drawing  room,  from  which  position  they  had  not 
moved  from  the  time  of  their  first  locating  themselves 
therein. 

After  that  part  of  the  conversation,  which  is  recorded 
in  the  foregoing  chapter,  as  having  taken  place  between 
Parsons  and  Miss  Rowdon,  the  two  remained,  he  insist 
ing  that  there  were  some  othex.  matters  concerning 
which  he  desired  to  have  a  hearing.  He  told  her  that 
her  prompt  and  ready  answer  to  his  troublesome 
question — her  undisguised  avowal  of  the  impression 
which  came  over  her,  upon  her  first  meeting  him,  had 
inspired  him  with  a  sufficient  amount  of  boldness  to 
make  to  her  some  further  revelations.  With  a  face  flushed 
by  excitement,  and  in  tones  of  appealing  tenderness, 
he  assured  her  that  there  was  no  computing  the 
estimate  he  placed  upon  her  friendship — no  explaining 
the  intensified  admiration  which  he  had  for  her — no 
interpreting  the  instantaneous  effort  to  have  a  menta 


244  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

photograph  find  a  lodgement  in  his  memory,  the 
m  oment  he  first  saw  her.  and  no  satisfactory  elucidation 
of  the  reason  for  his  becoming  so  intensely  interested  in 
her  welfare.  "It  is  barely  possible,"  added  he,  "that 
the  reason  of  this  estimation  of  you — this  admiration 
for  you,  and  this  interest  in  you,  may  be  connected 
with  the  reasons  which  have  been  reserved,  as  a  future 
disclosure,  in  connection  with  your  confession."  He 
admonished  her  to  keep  her  spirits  from  running  down 
in  consequence  of  an  over-amount  of  anxiety,  and 
not  to  grow  uneasy  or  restless  because  of  -being 
kept  in  a  state  of  suspense.  The  time,  he  said  to  her 
would  not  be  very  long-deferred,  and  when  further 
revelations  did  crop  out,  it  would  be  more  than  prob 
able  that  she  would  again  be  found  wonderfully 
surprised  as  she  encountered  a  new  development. 

At  this  juncture,  Parsons  admonished  Miss  Rowdon 
that  he  discovered  friends  were  waiting  for  her.  He 
thanked  her  for  his  most  delightful  hour's  enjoyment, 
at  the  same  time  begging  pardon  for  his  having 
detained  her  so  long.  The  two  then  passed  into  the 
corridor,  where  Parsons,  with  knightly  gallantry, 
helped  to  place  her  wraps  upon  the  young  lady's 
shoulders,  and,  while  doing  so,  asked  her,  sotto  voce, 
if  she  would  attend  the  reception  the  next  evening  ? 
She  replied  that  she  did  not  know.  "Do  not  know?  If 
at  all,  in  your  power,"  replied  he,  "you  must  be  sure 
to  be  present  ;  as  my  enjoyment  will  be  greatly  marred 
should  you  fail  to  attend.  Then  going  with  her  and  her 
escort  to  the  front,  he  whispered  "Pleasant  dreams;" 
and,  as  she  rode  away,  he  waved  her  a  good  night. 

It  was  not  long  after  Miss  Rowdon  departed  till  the 
company  all  dispersed,  and  Parsons,  upon  reaching  his 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  245 

boarding-house,  went  at  once  to  his  room.  Notwith 
standing  the  lateness  of  the  hour  he  made  no 
preparations  to  retire,  but  seated  himself,  and  in  silence, 
ruminated  upon  the  events  that  had  taken  place  within 
the  last  few  hours.  Chanticleer,  in  heralding  the 
dawn,  aroused  him  from  his  revery.  He  arose,  and, 
perambulating  his  room,  gave  vent  to  the  following 
soliloquy. 

"  I  am  a  captive.  There  is  no  questioning  this. 
Yet  I  am  a  willing  captive.  While  even  now  I  feel  the 
chains  of  my  captivity  wrapping  themselves  about  me, 
I  would  be  wholly  unwilling  to  have  them  removed. 
They  are  not  fetters  such  as  serfs  wear,  but  such  as 
bind  without  galling.  Provided  she,  whose  hands 
forge  them,  in  loving  sympathy  guarantees  a  panacea, 
the  wounds  will  leave  no  scars.  What  will  she,  who 
has  thus  fettered  my  heart  and  bound  me  to  an  uncer 
tain  fate  do  in  my  case  ?  Will  she  leave  me  to  pine 
amid  the  wreck  of  ruined  hopes,  or  will  she  come  to 
my  relief  and  lighten  the  burden  of  the  chains  herself 
has  bound  me  with?  I  have  obligated  myself  to 
relieve  her  anxious  curiosity  at  some  time  in  the  near 
future.  How  shall  I  make  good  that  obligation  ?  To 
do  so,  must  I  make  a  complete  and  unambiguous 
avowal  of  the  influence  she  has  wielded  over  my 
affections,  and,  through  them,  over  my  life  for  months 
past?  Must  I,  with  all  the  persuasiveness  of  which  I 
am  master,  plead  with  her  to  look  with  compassionate 
pity  upon  the  wretchedness  of  my  condition  ?  T  would 
not  willingly  do  wrong.  What  course  must  I  pursue  ? 
In  my  present  state  of  mind,  I  could  not  make  what  I 
had  to  say,  by  way  of  removing  her  curiosity,  anything 
less  than  an  orison  welling  up  from  the  altar  of  my 


WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

soul,  and  then  pleading  with  her  to  sanctify  my  offer 
ing  by  a  word  of  approbation,  such  as  Heaven  would 
accept  from  beauty  wedded  to  purity.  This  must  be 
my  course.  I  can  devise  nothing  better.  Now  for 
rest.  Sleep  I  cannot  woo.  Bright  visions,  chasing 
each  other  through  my  morning  vigils,  may  bring  me 
sleep  by  and  by." 

The  trailing  veil  of  the  queen  of  night  had  begun  to 
be  looped  up.  In  the  far  away  East,  the  first  hori 
zontal  rays  of  the  god  of  day  peeped  from  beneath 
that  uplifted  curtain,  and  waking  birds  began  to  sing 
again  their  matin  songs,  before  Parsons  sank  upon 
his  couch,  to  an  uneasy  and  restless  sleep. 

Oh,  thou  goddess  of  night !  Call  in  from  their 
shadowy  trysting  place  the  fairies,  and  let  them  fan  the 
fevered  brow  of  the  young  Professor  with  their  gauzy 
wings.  He  is  in  trouble  !  His  is  heart  trouble,  and  if 
in  the  alembic  of  your  outer  world  there  has  been 
distilled  any  specific  remedy  for  pain  such  as  his, 
touch  his  lips  therewith  and  bid  him  rest  in  peace  !  If 
there  is,  in  the  solitude  of  your  domain,  any  proph 
esying  elf,  who  is  interested  in  the  welfare  of  lovers, 
let  her  fly  to  where  Parsons  is  tossing  uneasily  on  his 
couch,  and  whisper  in  his  ear,  that  all  will  be  well ! 

Notwithstanding  the  short  time  which  Parsons  had 
allotted  for  sleep,  he  was  up  for  breakfast.  Although 
looking  slightly  jaded,  he  had  neither  lost  his  vivacity 
nor  his  voice.  He  had  resolved  that  the  outcome  of 
the  matter  in  which  he  Avas  so  profoundly  engaged, 
let  it  be  what  it  might,  should  be  kept  a  profound 
secret,  so  far  as  any  divulging  of  it  by  him  was  con 
cerned  ;  and,  consequentl\%  he  determined  not  only  to 
padlock  his  lips,  but  keep  his  emotions  under  such 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  247 

control  as  that,  through  neither  avenue  should  any 
betrayal  be  discovered  of  his  purpose.  Because  of 
this  resolve,  he  wore  at  the  breakfast  table  an  altogether 
placid  face,  and  seemed  to  be  wholly  undisturbed  by 
anything,  while  partaking  of  his  morning  meal.  Upon 
finishing  his  breakfast,  he  took  up  his  line  of 
march  for  his  school.  To  discharge  his  professional 
duties  was  harder  than  usual,  for  two  reasons  ;  first, 
because  he  had  to  fight  against  a  feeling  of  drowsiness, 
and  secondly,  he  had  a  fight  to  keep  his  mind  concen 
trated  upon  the  routine  work  before  him.  However, 
he  worried  through,  and  hurrying  home,  he  indulged 
himself  in  a  short  nap,  and,  having  had  his  supper,  he 
put  himself  in  commendable  attire,  and  was  not  long 
in  getting  away  to  the  reception.  Having  heard  that 
Miss  Rowdon  would  not  attend  the  reception,  he  was 
considerably  disappointed,  if  not  crest-fallen.  Why 
she  would  not  attend,  Parsons  did  not  know.  The  reason 
for  her  not  going,  as  developed  by  subsequent  revela 
tions,  made  it  well  for  him  that  he  did  not  know. 

The  gathering  at  the  reception,  as  Parsons  thought, 
was  a  success  in  point  of  numbers,  and  the  richness  of 
the  repast  which  was  spread,  but  was  a  failure  in  his 
case,  for  a  special  reason. 

There  were  a  number  of  young  people  present  with 
whom  Parsons  was  unacquainted,  and  who,  for  general 
appearance  and  polite  bearing,  could  but  be  considered 
as  complimenting  their  district  of  country.  But, 
despite  what  he  recognized  as  his  dut}7,  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  Parsons  seemed  disinclined,  in  this 
instance,  to  extend  his  acquaintance  among  those 
present.  He  entered  into  the  spirit  of  joy  and  amuse 
ment  as  a  perfunctory  duty  rather  than  because  it  gave 
him  pleasure. 


248  WHAT  NEXT?   OR 

There  were  pretty,  sprightly  and  interesting  girls 
present;  but  Parsons'  appreciation  of  these  attributes 
seemed,  on  this  particular  evening,  to  be  in  an  eclipse. 
Ah !  could  he  have  given  the  real  reason  for  his  apathy 
and  indifference,  it  would  have  been  a  cause  of  sur 
prise  to  every  one  who  knew  him.  The  truth  being 
divulged,  it  would  have  been  discovered,  that,  on  the 
evening  before,  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  had,  with  her 
own  hands,  turned  the  light  of  a  lamp,  which  she  held, 
in  upon  her  own  heart,  and  had  shown  to  Prof. 
Parsons  what  was  there.  This  was, the  primal  cause  of 
his  indifference  to  the  gaities  of  the  evening.  This  was 
the  incident  which  preoccupied  his  mind  and  made  him 
unsympathetic  with  everything  that  was  transpiring 
about  him.  Besides,  he  had  hoped  to  have  made  this 
the  occasion  of  allowing  the  search-light  to  be 
turned  in  upon  his  own  soul,  by  Miss  Rowdon,  that 
she  might  discover  how  deeply  that  soul  was  moved  by 
an  adoration  of  her  own  dear  self,  and  to  have  asked 
if  she  could  not  minister  to  his  trouble. 

To  Prof.  Parsons,  the  evening  passed  tardil}T.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  surroundings — nothing  in  the 
gaity  of  the  company  that  gave  speed  to  the  passing 
hours.  He  consulted  hie  watch  with  sufficient 
frequency  to  have  satisfied  any  one  -who  might  have 
noticed  it,  that  he  was  growing  weary.  Even  before 
any  one  of  the  guests  began  to  leave,  the  Professor 
quietly  stole  out — ordered  his  horse,  which  was  soon 
cantering  along  the  road  towards  his  boarding-house. 

The  refreshing  coolness  of  the  night  air,  ladened,  as 
it  was,  with  the  ordor  of  the  dew-burdened  meadows 
and  trees,  braced  the  nerves  of  the  young  preceptor  for 
his  homeward  ride.  He  was  not  oblivious,  at  any  time, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  249 

to  nature's  beauties,  and  as  he  watched  fair  Luna 
just  then  in  the  zenith,  riding  in  silent  majesty  and 
glory  above  a  sleeping  hemisphere,  his  heart  did 
obeisance  before  the  supernal  grandeur  of  the  scene. 
The  queen  of  night,  as  she  rode  through  the  blue 
expanse  of  the  upper  ether,  was  half  robed  in  a  fleecy 
cloud,  through  the  transparency  of  which  there  shone 
one  bright  star  like  a  glittering  diadem  which  had  fallen 
from  her  radiant  brow.  As  he  rode  on,  looking  with  a 
kind  of  bewildering  admiration  upon  the  glorious 
beauty  of  the  night,  he  broke  forth  in  a  soliloquy  which 
showed  the  devotional  spirit  of  the  man. 

"O,  fair  Luna,  virgin  goddess  of  the  skies!  as  thy 
argental  rays  rest  on  the  hills  and  plains,  or  glitter  on 
the  rippling,  babbling  brook,  the  scene  draws  me 
heavenward  by  its  elevating  influence,  and  I  would 
fain  breathe  to  thee  a  hymn  of  praise.  Lonely  thou 
dost  seem  to  wander  through  the  nightly  azure  deep, 
while  millions  at  this  hour  are  lifting,  through  thy 
elevating  rays,  songs  of  praise  to  the  Great  I  Am — to 
Him  who  built  and  started  thy  silvery  chariot  through 
the  skies.  0,  fair,  lovely  queen  of  night !  Why  does 
my  heart  seem  to  well  up  with  emotions  of  sublimer 
appreciation  to  the  Giver  of  All  Good,  amid  these  scenes, 
so  still  and  half  awe  inspiring  ?  Why  should  I  seem  to  be 
so  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  devotional  admira 
tion  as  I  look  now  into  thy  bright  face  ?  Why  should 
I  have  become  a  more  ardent  admirer  of  thy  queenly 
beauty,  as  thou  ridest  now  in  yonder  ethereal  blue,  than 
when  thou  didst  last  bring  out  thy  royal  retinue  ?  I 
have  it !  yes !  I  have  it.  Thy  name,  0  beauteous 
regal  ruler  !  is  a  link  in  fair  Lunata's  name,  and  as 
thy  light  is  the  dispenser  of  gladness,  when  thou  dost 


250  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

dispel  darkness,  so  the  brightness  of  Lunata's  lovely 
face,  and  the  genial  influence  of  her  promise  must 
break  in  upon  the  darkness  of  my  soul  and  light  up 
its  secret  chambers,  or  I  will  be  left  amid  a  night  of 
ever  during  darkness." 

Thus  did  John  Parsons  continue  to  ponder  over  his 
enthrallment,  and  soliloquize  upon  his  peculiar  environ 
ment,  while  he  wended  his  way  homeward ;  and 
not  until  the  clatter  of  the  hoofs  of  his  horse,  as  he 
spun  along  the  way,  awakened  the  dogs  at  the  home 
of  farmer  Watson,  was  he  aroused  from  his  revery. 
Riding  his  horse  into  the  barn,  he  unsaddled  and 
unbridled  him  in  his  accustomed  stall,  and  then 
hurried  off  to  his  own  quarters.  Being  a  little  fatigued 
from  a  ride,  over  a  rough  road,  for  a  number  of  miles, 
he  hastily  retired,  and  was  soon  in  the  arms  of  Somnus. 
Two  consecutive  nights  of  dissipation  had  closed  the 
portals  of  dreams  against  him,  and  Parsons  slept  the 
sleep  of  undisturbed  honesty. 

Before  the  up-coming  of  the  morning  sun,  the 
Professor  was  out  and  enjoying  the  exhilerating  effects 
of  the  cool  atmosphere.  He  was  out  even  before  the 
woodland  choristers  had  fairly  opened  their  gladsome 
carol,  in  a  matin  song  of  triumphant  praise. 

Parsons  answered  the  call  to  breakfast — ate  with  a 
relish  the  well  prepared  viands,  such  as  always  found  a 
place  upon  the  Watson  table,  and  was  then  ready  for 
a  new  day's  work  in  the  school-room.  Repairing  to 
the  place  where  he  met  his  young  pupil  friends — 
ever  ready  to  meet  him  with  smiling  faces,  he 
went  forward  with  his  usual  duties,  as  though  he  had 
been  subjected  to  no  recent  excitement.  Thus  that 
day,  and  the  days  of  another  week  passed,  without  any- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  251 

thing  occurring  of  particular  note  outside  of  the  usual 
routine  of  school  work.  At  the  close  of  the  following;  week, 
however,  he  decided  that  on  the  succeeding  Sunday,  he 
would  call  upon  Miss  Rowdon,  and  considering  "The 
better  the  day,  the  better  the  deed,"  he  would,  if  possi 
ble,  not  only  relieve  her  mind  of  any  anxiety  she 
might  have  been  carrying  on  his  account,  since  their 
last  interview ;  but,  to  fully,  fairly  and  unreservedly 
explain  to  her  his  own  connection  with  the  matter  he 
had  left  with  her,  and  which  he  had  dignified  by  calling 
it  his  "question  of  questions."  He  felt  that  he  could  not 
longer  hold  the  young  lady  in  a  state  of  suspense — he 
felt  as  well,  that  he*could  no  longer  conceal  in  his  own 
mind  that  which  he  would,  under  the  circumstances, 
be  compelled,  sooner  or  later,  to  reveal.  While  satisfy 
ing  her  curiosity,  he  thought  therefore,  the  time  would 
be  opportune  for  divesting  himself  of  an  anxiety  which 
had  so  long  hung  like  a  trammel  upon  his  own  soul. 

To  carry  out  his  decision,  that  the  following  Sunday 
should  witness  the  liberation  of  Miss  Rowdon  from  her 
state  of  doubt,  Parsons'made  her  a  visit  on  that  day. 
The  young  lady  received  him  very  kindly.  A  little 
coyness  accompanied  by  an  expression  of  countenance 
in  which  he  read  his  first  satisfactory  lesson  from  that 
strange  and  inarticulate  text-book,  was  apparent  as  her 
soul  mounted  to,  and  talked  through  her  eyes.  The  two 
There  was  no  coquettish  frippery  in  that  meeting, 
met.  There  was  a  mutual  recognition  of  friends.  Miss 
Rowdon  extended  her  hand  to  the  Professor  in  no  luke 
warm,  half-hearted  way.  She  gave  him  a  genuinely 
generous  greeting,  such  as  true  friends  know  how  to 
interpret.  She  told  him  that  she  was  glad  to  see  him; 
and  there  was  that  in  her  manner  and  intonation  of 


252  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

voice  which  confirmed  the  unspoken  expression  her 
eyes  had  furtively  revealed.  That  she  meant  more 
than  could  be  told  by  both  articulate  and  inarticulate 
language  could  hardly  have  been  denied. 

The  very  air  of  the  room  in  which  the  two  were 
seated  seemed  to  him,  somehow,  to  grow  suddenly 
fragrant  with  the  flowers  of  hope.  He  became  inspired. 
The  flush  of  exhileration  played  in  unwonted  exhibit 
over  his  face  and  lent  lustre  to  his  eyes. 

After  some  time  had  passed  in  pleasant  converse 
upon  the  common  topics  of  the  day,  Parsons  informed 
Miss  Rowdon  that  he  had  chosen  that  day  as  the 
occasion  for  the  fulfillment  of  the  promise  he  had  made 
her  on  the  evening  of  the  wedding. 

"I  am  very  much  gratified  indeed,  Professor,  that 
your  promise,  in  its  fulfillment,  has  not  been  longer 
deferred.  I  confess  I  have  been  a  little  anxious,  but 
determined  my  anxiety  should  not  grow  into  impatience. 
I  had  confidence  in  your  pledge,  and  believed  it  would 
be  fairly  and  faithfully  complied  with.  If  then  you 
have  chosen  the  present  as  the  time  to  make  your 
revelation,  I  am  ready  and  anxious  to  hear  it,  and  am 
a  willing  auditor  to  whatever  you  have  to  say.  Please 
spare  me,  however,  as  much  as  you  can,  if  there  is 
anything  harrowing,  or  even  especially  unpleasant  in 
the  forth-coming  announcement." 

"There  is  nothing,  I  assure  you,  Miss  Rowdon,  in  the 
revelation  I  propose  to  make  that  need  give  you  the 
smallest  degree  of  disquietude.  When  the  matter  in 
its  entirety  is  laid  before  you.  I  am  persuaded  that 
my  motive  for  interrogating  you  in  regard  to  affairs 
connected  with  your  private  life,  will  be  readly  dis 
covered.  You  will  see,  Miss  Rowdon,  with  equal  read- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  253: 

iness,  that  there  could  have  been  no  kind  of  justification, 
in  my  invading  the  privacy  of  your  own  life-intentions, 
but  for  the  fact  that  my  own  weal  or  woe  seemed  to 
be  inseparably  connected  with  my  knowing  something 
of  the  purpose  of  those  intentions." 

"You  may  possibly  think,  Miss  Rowdon,  that  what 
I  have  heretofore  done,  and  what  I  am  now  about 
to  do,  are  both  wrong.  But  I  hope,  even  in  the 
event  of  your  thinking  my  course  is  a  violation  of  the 
law  of  right,  that  you  will  allow  the  designs  and 
intentions  of  an  earnest  life  to  plead  an  extenuation  of 
that  wrong." 

"Let  the  matter  eventuate  as  it  may,  Professor,  I 
want  to  assure  you  now,  and  here,  that  no  complaint 
shall  be  laid  at  your  door  by  me.  In  matters  such  as 
we  now  have  under  consideration,  the  common  con 
ventionalities  of  society  may,  for  a  time,  be  ignored. 
Your  desire,  as  I  understand  you,  is  to  communicate 
something  which  concerns  me  especially,  and  my  wish 
is  to  know  what  that  something  is.  In  order  that  this 
end  may  be  attained,  and  each  of  us  satisfied,  we  will 
not  make  sticklers  of  ourselves,  by  laying  down  a 
certain  formulated  rule  by  which  the  end  to  be  accom 
plished  shall  be  reached.  You  may  therefore  lay  aside 
formalities  and  proceed  with  what  you  may  have  to 
say  without  let  or  hindrance.  I  have  declared  myself 
your  friend  and  I  assure  you  my  friendship  is  not  made 
of  such  chaff  as  that  it  can  be  uprooted  by  the  first 
adverse  wind  with  which  it  comes  in  contact." 

"It  is  my  abiding  confidence  in,  your  friendship,  as 
well  as  in  your  clear-sighted  judgment,  Miss  Rowdon, 
that  emboldens  me  to  present  the  matter  that  now 
lies  so  heavily  on  my  mind.  It  is  your  friendship — 


254  WHAT    NEXT?   OR 

your  judgment  that  I  regard  as  my  shield  in  this 
emergency,  and  this  I  would  seek  to  hold  up  before  me, 
as  a  protection  against  censure,  either  from  you  or 
myself,  for  any  expression  that  may  escape  from  my 
overburdened  soul." 

"Please  listen  to  me,  Miss  Rowdon.  I  am  here  to 
render  an  explanation  ;  and,  if  I  ever  appealed  to  my 
own  conscience  to  help  me  to  be  brave,  I  would  make 
that  appeal  now.  If  there  was  ever  a  captive  completely 
held  by  the  thrall  of  a  binding  bondage,  who  could 
grow  eloquent  by  the  force  of  his  surroundings,  in 
pleading  for  liberty,  I  am  now  that  captive.  The  key 
to  my  fetters  you  hold.  In  mere}'  then  unshackle  me, 
as  I  most  devoutly  bow  before  you.  I  am  a  worshiper 
at  the  feet  of  beauty.  Turn  not  thou  away  from  my 
offering.  I  have  found  you  enshrined  in  so  much 
excellence  as  to  make  you  the  realization  of  my  ideal 
and  a  present  idol.  Miss  Rowdon,  I  love  you.  This 
declaration  is  the  sublimest  poetry  of  my  soul.  Nay, 
more.  I  have  loved  you  from  the  time  of  our  first 
meeting,  and  had  there  been  no  seeming  obstruction  to 
this  averment,  the  out-gush  of  a  warm-hearted  oblation 
would  long  since  have  been  laid  at  your  feet.  The 
oratory  of  my  spiritual  nature  knows  no  purer,  nor  more 
pathetic  perioration  than  this.  From  that  night — that 
eventful  wedding  night,  when  you  first  pulled  back  the 
clouds  of  uncertainty,  by  which  I  was  enshrouded,  and 
let  the  light  of  hope  in  upon  my  despondency,  I  have 
wondered,  until  my  wonderings  have  grown  painfully 
intensified  as  to  whether  there  was  a  possibility  of  my 
finding  a  place  within  the  sanctuary  of  your  heart. 
Had  I  found,  from  your  answer  to  my  question, 
that  there  was  another — a  prior  and  acceptable  claimant 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  255 

to  that  place,  my  idea  of  manly  dignity  and  true  firm 
ness  would  have  stilled  my  tongue  and  sealed  my  lips 
against  the  utterance  of  one  single  word  that  could 
have  been  construed  as  seeking  to  disturb  the  security 
of  that  claimant." 

"You  recognize  me  as  a  friend,  Miss  Rowdon  ;  may 
I  not  hope  that  my  earnest  and  devoted  intercession 
may  win  for  me  a  place  more  sacred  than  that  of 
friendship.  I  would  not  be  an  idolator,  but  my  admi 
ration  so  nearly  approaches  adoration,  that  I  can 
scarcely  discover  a  difference.  Turn  not  then  your  ear 
away  from  a  petitioner,  the  answer  to  whose  appeal 
will  make  him  unspeakably  happy  or  unutterably 
miserable.  Oh  !  answer  me  now.  Anything  rather 
than  impending  uncertainty!" 

"  So  this  is  the  answer  you  have  withheld  till  now, 
and  with  which  I  presume  you  propose  to  quiet  the 
curiosity  you  so  artfully  created  in  my  mind  the  night 
of  the  Avedding,  is  it  ?  After  my  taking  you  into  my 
confidence  that  night,  and  making  the  frank,  honest, 
and  undisguised  admission,  in  answer  to  your  question, 
that  I  was  not  engaged  to  Mr.  Aurelius  Munson — that 
I  never  would  be,  and  that  my  receiving  his  visits  was 
rather  perfunctory  than  otherwise  ;  why  did  you  seek  to 
keep  me  in  a  state  of  mortal  suspense  all  this  wrhile? 
Possibly  you  did  it  with  a  view  to  testing  some  charac 
teristic  of  mine  about  which  you  were  not  entirely 
satisfied.  Is  this  the  reason,  Professor,  for  the  post 
ponement  till  the  present  hour  of  the  declarations  to 
which  I  have  just  listened  ?" 

"Fallibility,  Miss  Rowdon,  is  a  universal  and  inher 
ent  quality  of  our  race.  To  err  is  human,  it  is  God-like 
to  forgive.  Errors  are  often  the  outgrowth  of  cow- 


256  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

ardice,  and  I  presume,  if  I  blundered  in  not  making 
the  declarations  that  night,  that  I  pour  forth  to-day ; 
please  remember  that  my  heart  was  almost  bursting  to 
make  a  revelation  which  my  cowardly  lips  could  not 
be  induced  to  unfold.  I  certainly  wanted  to  disclose 
the  raging  excitement  under  which  my  mind  was 
suffering,  but  I  was  afraid.  Coward  that  I  was  !  Better, 
by  far,  that  I  should  have  gone  before  you  in  a  confes 
sional  then,  than  to  have  nursed  my  emotions,  and  bid 
them  be  still  when  they  clamored  to  be  heard.  But  I 
did  not  give  them  speech,  and  can  only  ask  that  you 
forgive  that  which  was  omitted  to  be  done,  for  no 
reason  except  that  I  was  afraid." 

"  Of  what  were  you  afraid,  Professor?  You  seemed 
to  have  the  utmost  confidence  in  me,  and  I  am  not 
conscious  of  having  done  anything  to  have  created 
alarm.  I  answered  your  question  promptly  and  with 
out  hesitation,  and  this  show  of  confidence  in  you 
ought  to  have  gone  a  long  way  towards  bolstering  your 
opinion  of  my  good  intentions." 

"  I  did  not  carry  with  me,  Miss  Rowdon,  after  our 
interview  at  the  wedding,  one  single  shadow  of  doubt 
in  regard  to  your  honesty,  your  integrity,  or  your 
superior  goodness.  The  plain  honest  truth  is,  I  was 
afraid  of  myself.  I  was  not  satisfied  that  my  power 
in  the  use  of  words  could  present  to  you  the  overmas 
tering  and  potent  energy  of  the  admiration  for  you 
which  dominated  my  whole  being." 

"Under  the  circumstances,  Professor,  I  presume  in 
this  instance  I  will  be  compelled  to  accept  your  expla 
nation,  and  excuse  you  for  keeping  me  so  long  in  a 
state  of  suspense.  It  seems  something  of  a  coincidence 
however,  Professor,  that  opinions  so  similar,  and 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  257 

exciting  impressions,  so  exactly  corresponding  to  each 
other,  should  have  flashed  themselves  through  the 
mind  of  each  of  us,  upon  our  first  meeting.  With 
me  there  has  been  much  study  in  regard  to  the  changes 
produced  upon  my  mind  by  that  unexpected  coming 
together.  I  have  been  unable  to  define  the  effects  of 
that  meeting  to  my  entire  satisfaction.  It  was  different 
from  anything  that  I  had  ever  experienced;  and,  not 
being  able  to  analyze  a  thing  which  is  immaterial,  the 
feeling  I  experienced  remained  a  nameless  curiosity. 
It  followed  me — it  haunted  my  footsteps.  Like  a 
phantom,  it  came  to  me  in  my  dreams,  and  whether 
waking  or  sleeping  the  same  strange  and  unsubdued 
emotions  were  ever  present  with  me.  Upon  the  occasion 
of  my  turning  jockey,  and  closing  a  trade  with  you  for 
your  horse,  the  unchristened  emotion  grew  more 
intense.  After  that  little  sally,  the  nameless  emotion 
would  not  keep  quiet.  It  seemed  to  take  control  of 
my  very  heart-beats.  My  pulse  put  on,  at  intervals, 
unwonted  throbbing.  Professor,  could  this  have  been 
the  outcome  of  a  quickened,  and  suddenly  aroused 
admiration." 

"I  will  consent  to  say,  Miss  Rowdon,  that  your  con 
clusion  in  regard  to  the  invisible  power  which  remains 
nameless,  but  which  exercises  such  an  influence  over 
your  thoughts  and  life,  is  correct,  provided  a  further 
development  of  that  emotion  be  acknowledged  to  be 
the  gradual  unfolding  of  a  flower  which  you  have  not 
yet  named,  but  which  must  yield  the  ripeded  fruit  for 
which  I  pine — even  your  priceless  love." 

"You  are  certainly  very  complimentary,  Prof. 
Parsons.  There  seems  to  be  couched  in  your  response 

WHAT  NEXT? — 17. 


258  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

an  explanation  as.  to  why  I  am  now  experiencing  a 
self-acknowledged  state  of  mind,  and,  to  what,  possibly, 
that  mental  condition  may  ultimately  lead.  Accept 
my  thanks  for  your  help  in  my  entanglement.  Con 
tinuing  my  recapitulation,  and  in  that  review,  as  I 
travel  still  further  in  the  direction  of  the  present,  I 
think  I  am  necessitated  to  call  upon  you  further,  for  an 
explanation  of  the  new  and  changed  relations  between 
you  and  myself." 

"In  the  interview  which  we  held  at  the  wedding," 
continued  Miss  Rowdon,  "it  was  easy  to  discern  that 
your  interrogatories  upon  that  occasion,  were  attended 
with  more  or  less  excitement,  and  I  confess  that  with 
the  apparent  ebb  and  flow  in  your  excitement,  my  own 
feeling  of  interest  seemed  to  have  corresponding 
fluctuations.  While  you  were  engaged  in  your  earnest 
and  animated  conversation,  as  you  stood  before  me  with 
one  arm  resting  upon  a  cabinet,  and  looking  me 
directly  in  the  eyes  with  an  investigating  look,  I  was 
surprised,  but  did  not  avert  my  face  from  your  searching 
glances.  You  were  unfolding  to  my  willing  ears  some 
thing  that  awakened  the  first  throbbings  of  the  emotions 
I  have  attempted  to  describe.  I  looked  at  you  and  listened 
to  you,  with  an  intensified  interest.  Was  this  interest 
sympathy?  If  not  sympathy,  has  the  philologist 
coined  no  term  suited  to  my  peculiar  state  of  mind?" 

"Such  is  the  nature  of  sympathy,  Miss  Rowdon," 
replied  Parsons,  "that  it  cannot  exist,  except  in  a  heart 
where  love  finds  a  home.  Pushed  out  of  that  home, 
sympathy  may  become  chilled,  and  under  the  influence 
of  that  blight  may  never  return,  and  the  soul  from 
which  it  made  its  exit,  remain  a  barren  waste.  On  the 
other  hand  sympathy,  when  properly  nursed  and 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  259 

carefully  guarded,  may  ripen  into  something  holier  and 
more  felicitous  than  pity.  Oh !  that  such  a  harvest 
were  now  ripe — ready  for  the  gathering,  and  I  the 
sickle  bearer,  with  the  privilege  of  claiming  the  fruit 
age  as  my  own.  May  I  not  soon  so  consider  it,  Miss 
Rowdon?" 

"I  think,  Professor,  that  I  have  made  about  as  much 
a  confession  as  a  young  lady  of  my  limited  experience 
ought  to  make  in  the  presence  of  so  young  a  priest  of 
Thallassius.  Accept  the  confession  as  far  as  it  has 
been  made.  I  will  take  under  consideration  a  further 
study  of  the  relations  that  exist  between  us.  After  I 
have  finished  the  study,  necessary  to  the  answering  of 
your  questions,  at  a  suitable  time,  I  will  answer 
your  query.  Be  not  impatient.  Remember  I  waited 
with  some  degree  of  unrest  for  certain  revela 
tions  at  your  hands,  and  uncomplainly  submitted 
to  your  request.  You  cannot,  I  am  sure,  consider  me 
either  cruel  or  unjust  for  making  a  similar  demand  of 
you.  Wait,  then,  till  I  can  give  you  an  answer  to 
your  pleading  which  shall  be  neither  evasive  nor 
undecisive." 

"To  such  a  decree — issued  in  such  distinctness, 
and  emanating  from  such  a  source,  I  must  most 
respectfully  and  uncomplainingly  yield  an  acquiesence. 
The  sympathy,  Miss  Rowdon,  which  you  so  sweetly 
exhibited  in  my  behalf,  must  stand  sponser  for  your 
devout  petitioner,  while  you  are  engaged  in  your 
deliberations,  for  I  would  fain 

'  Learn  to  win  a  lady's  faith 
Nobly,  as  the  thing  in  high  ; 
Bravely,  as  for  life  or  death 
With  a  regal  gravity." 

"As  I  understand  your  decree,  it  is  no  bar,  Miss 
Rowdon,  to  my  wearing  the  spell  of  devotional  admira- 


260  WHAT  XEXT?  OR 

tion  which  has  been  woven  about  my  whole  being,  by 
your  personal  charms ;  but,  that  I  must  patiently  bide  my 
time,  and  later  learn  whether  there  is  any  responsive 
music  made  by  a  harp,  the  delicate  strings  of  which  I 
have  tried  to  strike,  will  remain  to  be  seen.  When  may 
I  come  and  hear  your  reply?" 

"The  matter  which  I  am  to  take  under  advisement, 
Professor  Parsons,  is  of  too  much  importance  to  you  as 
well  as  myself,  to  be  treated  either  lightly  or  hastily. 
In  its  remote  consequences,  it  may  embrace  the 
weal  or  woe  of  your  future  life  as  well  as 
mine.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  too  fully  weighed  and 
examined.  A  mistake,  made  in  the  choice  of  a 
companion,  for  the  journey  of  life,  is  apt  to  be  irreme 
diable,  and  sound  judgment  may  not  unfrequently 
disapprove  the  choice  which  taste  or  fancy  would 
suggest.  There  are  more  things  than  one  to  be 
adjusted  to  my  sense  of  right  before  my  decision  can 
be  presented  to  you.  I  would  not,  for  any  consider 
ation,  deceive  you,  or  seek  to  leave  with  you  a  false 
imnression.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  I  may  be  able  to 
enter  upon  the  investigation  with  honesty  and  prudence 
as  my  guides,  and  when  I  have  studied  the  question 
until  I  think  I  understand  it  fully,  you  shall  have  my 
answer,  which,  when  given,  shall  be  honest — decisive — 
final.  From  it  there  shall  be  no  appeal.  I  will  reserve 
to  myself  a  sufficient  time  to  look  at  the  question  in 
all  the  possible  bearings  in  which  it  can  be  presented 
to  my  youthful  mind.  I  will  endeavor  to  weigh  every 
thing  in  the  scales  of  justice,  and  will  have  all  the 
consequences  of  my  decision  settled  before  that  decision 
is  rendered.  Give  me,  therefore,  a  week  for  making  up 
my  summary  of  evidence.  Call  next  Sunday  and  I 
will  have  my  answer  in  waiting." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  261 

"Your  frankness,  your  prudence,  your  honesty  and 
your  determination,  Miss  Rowdon,  challenge  my  admi 
ration.  Let  your  decision  be  what  it  may,  I  shall 
never  cease  to  revere  the  memory  of  one  whose  highest 
ambition  seemed  to  be  to  know  the  right,  that  the 
right  she  might  pursue." 

"  In  obedience  to  your  wish,  I  will  come  to  you  next 
Sunday,  Miss  Rowdon.  I  will  then  lay  a  new  weekly 
offering  upon  the  shrine  about  which  you  officiate;  and, 
whether  it  shall  be  the  last  that  these  hands  will 
place  thereon  or  not,  I  will  at  least  bow  to  the  result 
of  your  decision  with  the  heroic  fortitude  of  a  volun 
tary  sacrifice."  Then,  taking  Miss  Rowdon's  hands  in 
his  own,  and  looking  her  steadily  in  the  eyes,  Parsons, 
with  trembling  emotion  said  :  "  Light  of  my  soul's 
sanctuary,  let  not  the  fire  which  you  alone  can  keep 
burning  therein,  leave  that  sanctuary  in  darkness,  amid 
which  a  forlorn  hope  will  brood  and  hang  the  badges 
of  continual  regret.  May  the  Dispenser  of  justice 
guide  you  in  reaching  your  conclusion,  and  may  he 
keep  you  in  safety,  and  allow  you  to  meet  me  at  the 
appointed  time.  Good-by." 

With  this  farewell,  Parsons  started  home.  He  car 
ried  with  him  a  sad  heart.  Doubt  and  uncertainty 
hung  thick  about  his  most  earnest  wishes,  and  with 
feelings  akin  to  agony,  he  asked — What  Next  ? 


I 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"On  you,  most  loved,  with  anxious  fear  I  wait, 
And  from  your  judgment  must  expect  my  fate." 

— Addison. 

"Thlnkest  thou 

That  I  could  live,  and  let  thee  go. 
Who  art  my  life  itself? — no,  no," 

— Moore. 

•  I/'HE  circumstances  under  which  Parsons  quitted  the 
|I(L  presence  of  Miss  Rowdon  were  very  peculiar.  He 

IL  had  carried  for  a  long  time  an  anxious  solicitude 
for  the  time  to  come  when  he  could  make  a  frank 
avowal  of  his  love  for  her.  That  time  came,  and  he  had 
unburdened  the  very  fullness  of  a  soul's  devotion  for  her. 
She  had  listened  to  his  declarations,  and  had  evinced 
very  much  interest  in  his  recital  both  as  to  where  he  be 
came  impressed  with  a  sense  of  her  superior  worth,  and 
the  character  of  the  feelings  he  carried  awaj7  with  him 
from  their  first  meeting.  He  had  told  her  how  hope 
lessly  he  had,  for  so  long  a  time,  considered  the 
possibility  of  ever  telling  her  the  consuming  desire 
with  which  his  mind  had  been  burdened.  He  had 
recounted  the  fact ;  that  it  was  only  because  of  her 
own  frank  and  ready  reply  to  a  question  in  regard  to 
her  relations  with  Aurelius  Munson  that  the  window  of 
his  soul  flew* wide  open,  through  which  Hope  entered, 
and  nestled  down  in  its  sacred  precincts. 

After  having  repeatedly  received,  at  the  hands  of  the 
young  lady,  unmistakable  evidence  of  her  good  opinion 
of  him;  to  have  her,  when  the  crucial  test  came, 
relegate  to  a^future  time  the  answer  to  his  all  absorb 
ing  question,  had  been  to  him  as  strange,  as  unexpected. 
But,  after  all,  when  he  remembered  the  clear-sighted 
judgment  she^had  evinced,  in  her  expressed  views  of 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  263 

the  incalculable  importance  of  having  such  matters 
examined  with  caution — weighed  with  prudence,  and 
decided  with  justice,  he  could  not  refrain  from  compli 
menting  her  good  sense.  As  a  culmination  of  their  inter 
view,  he  found  himself  in  a  narrow  defile,  from  which 
there  was  no  satisfactory  escape,  unless  Miss  Rowdon 
should  herself  open  a  way  for  his  rescue. 

Anxious  expectancy  is  sure  to  grow  restive  over  the 
apparently  tardy  travel  of  time.  That  John  Parsons 
should  have  grown  impatient,  under  the  circumstances 
that  environed  him,  could  not  have  been  expected  to  be 
otherwise.  That  he  should  have  computed  the  short 
ening  of  the  time,  as  the  hours  of  the  day  went  by, 
was  a  calculation,  which  he,  who  has  passed  through 
the  same  kind  of  ordeal,  can  readily  appreciate.  That 
he  should  have  cloaked  his  anxiety,  and  have  hidden 
it  beneath  the  active  duties  of  a  daily  routine  of 
school  work,  showed  the  determination  of  the  man. 

By  and  by  the  week  passed.  The  designated  Sun 
day  came,  in  which  a  revelation  of  vastly  important 
matters  to  two  interested  persons  was  to  be  made. 
With  the  first  glint  and  glow  of  the  sun,  as  he  kissed 
the  opening  day,  Parsons  was  up  and  away  to  the 
fields.  For  him,  it  was  no  day  to  loiter.  There  was 
far  too  much,  of  tremendous  moment  to  him,  wrapped 
up  in  the  coming  hours  of  the  day,  to  allow  him  to 
remain  listlessly  idle.  He  could  do  nothing,  it  was 
true,  by  way  of  studying  out  a  prologue  to  the  speech 
he  would  make.  The  inspiration  which  would  come  to 
him,  when  the  trial  came,  he  determined  should  lead 
him  in  all  he  had  to  say. 

When  the  hour  came  in  which  he  was  to  appear  in 
the  presence  of  Miss  Rowdon,  to  receive  a  sentence 


264  WHAT  NEXT?   OB 

from  which  she  had  decreed  there  should  be  no  appeal, 
he  had  fully  determined  to  stand  the  ordeal  with  stoic 
fortitude.  He  confidently  believed  she  had  it  in  her 
power  to  help  him  make  of  his  life-work  a  success;  for 
neither  had  he  been  idle  in  his  investigations  of  the 
importance  of  the  matters  she  had  sought  to  settle  for 
herself.  Because  of  her  declaration,  however,  that 
from  her  decision,  when  it  should  have  been  rendered,, 
there  should  be  no  appeal,  Parsons  felt,  that  going  into. 
her  presence,  he  would  go  very  much  as  the  poor 
culprit  goes  into  the  presence  of  a  tribunal  of  last 
resort,  to  await,  with  trembling  dread,  the  final  finding 
of  that  court.  He  determined,  however,  to  be  brave — 
not  to  cower  before  the  uncertainty  of  impending  fate 
— not  to  wince  under  the  rendering  of  an  unfavorable 
verdict,  and  especially  not  to  utter  one  word  by  way  of 
seeking  a  reversal  of  her  decision  when  made. 

Fortified  by  such  resolves,  at  the  designated  hour, 
on  the  appointed  day,  Parsons  presented  himself  at 
the  Rowdon  home.  Miss  Lunata  met  him  with  her 
usual  cordial  grace,  and  pleasant  reception.  There 
was,  at  no  time,  anything  formal,  straight-laced,  or 
stiff  in  the  young  lady's  manners.  Upon  this  occasion 
her  demeanor  was  so  pleasantly  agreeable,  and  so  free 
from  even  the  appearance  of  reserve,  that  the  sus 
picions  of  Parsons  were  disarmed,  and  his  fears  gradu 
ally  removed.  He  believed  the  young  lady  admired 
him,  even  if  her  admiration  had  not  become  so  intensi 
fied  as  to  deserve  the  name  of  something  more  sacred 
than  mere  mental  admiration.  He  imagined  that 
she  loved  him.  But  imagination  could  not  be  con 
sidered  an  approximation  to  knowledge.  Even  if  she 
loved  him,  she  had  somewhat  adroitly  laid  an  embargo 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  26 

upon  the  revelation  of  that  fact  through  tha't  inarticu 
late  language  that  Parsons  had  so  often  declared  told 
no  untruths.  Under  the  circumstances,  he  was  there 
fore  afraid  that,  even  if  she  loved  him,  she  might  make 
her  affections  subservient  to  the  dictates  of  her  reason, 
and  thereby,  be  induced  to  render  her  decision  against 
him.  He  recognized  the  existence  of  certain  facts  that 
would  plead  loudly  against  his  suit ;  and,  he  recognized 
as  well,  that  if  a  pleading,  backed  by  these  facts,  was 
pushed  upon  the  consideration  of  the  young  lady,  he 
would  be  barred  from  making  any  argument  in  his  own 
behalf. 

Prof.  Parsons  was  timid,  but  not  cowardly.  The 
exegency  of  his  present  surroundings  appealed  loudly 
to  his  manhood.  He  recognized  that  such  was  the  fact, 
and  in  the  largeness  of  a  big  soul,  resolved  to  show  that 
he  could  be  equal  to  the  emergency.  He  therefore 
nerved  himself  for  the  ordeal,  and  at  the  proper  time, 
with  the  composure  and  self-poised  complacency  of 
a  hero,  said  to  MissRowdon:  "I  have,  by  appoint 
ment  of  your  own,  come  to  hear  your  decision,  which 
has  been  promised  me  on  this  day.  I  need  not  re-state 
my  case.  It  has  been  laid  before  you  with  all  the 
pathos  which  a  hungry  soul  could  give  it.  Were  I  to 
attempt  to  reiterate  any  part  of  it.  I  think  my  fear  of 
defeat  would  paralyze  my  tongue.  But  I  am  largely 
estopped  from  saying  anything  now.  Your  decree 
makes  me  largely  a  mute  in  your  presence.  Being  cut 
off  from  any  appeal  in  regard  to  the  unrendered 
decision,  I  am  at  your  mercy.  But  I  am  not  without 
hope  that  I  may  be  backed  by  a  fortitude  which  will 
not  permit  me  to  cower  at  any  fate." 


366  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

"My  answer  is  ready,  Prof.  Parsons;  but  I  am 
slightly  puzzled  for  suitable  language  in  which  to 
express  it.  To  begin,  however,  let  me  say  to  you, 
that  you  may  dismantle  yourself  of  any  hovering  doubt 
which  may  hang  over  you,  in  regard  to  my  making  an 
adverse  decision  in  your  case.  I  think  I  know  you. 
From  ever}'  source  that  I  could  reach,  I  have  studied 
your  general  character  and  characteristics.  Not  only 
during  the  week  just  passed,  but  during  even-  week 
that  has  intervened  between  the  present,  and  your 
unheralded  visit  to  our  home,  in  the  company  of  Miss 
Watson,  have  I  worked  on  this  question.  As  a  result  of 
that  study,  I  now,  in  all  candor,  declare  to  you  that  it 
would  be  an  impossibility  for  me  to  render  a  verdict 
against  the  man  I  love.  M\T  heart's  best  and  purest  affec 
tions  are  yours.  Reason  as  I  may  against  the  existence  of 
this  fact,  the  stubborn  and  unsubdued  truth  rises  in  con 
tradiction  to  any  appeal  that  dares  lift  itself  against 
the  dictates  of  an  honest  confession." 

"I  have  undoubting  confidence  in  your  declarations 
of  attachment  for  me,  Prof.  Parsons,  and  could  not  be 
induced  to  believe  that  a  young  man  of  your  age,  and 
with  a  reputation  as  unsullied  as  yours,  could  be 
prompted  by  any  other  motive  than  honesty,  in  offering 
to  place  his  affections  in  my  keeping.  In  dealing  with  one 
therefore,  who  has  placed  his  heart's  trust  in  me,  I  would 
recreant  to  every  instinct  of  my  nature,  and  ever  power 
of  reason  with  which  I  have  been  gifted,  were  I  to 
practice  anything  else  than  strict  honesty  towards  you. 
You  first  made  me  the  offering  of  a  love  that  I  had 
coveted  from  the  hour  of  our  first  meeting.  I  loved 
you  then.  I  love  you  now,  and  if  the  devotional 
attachment  which  lives  and  burns  upon  the  altar  of  my 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  267 

heart  for  you,  with  all  the  constancy  of  a  Vestal  fire,  is 
any  compensation  for  the  weary  week,  through  which 
you  say  you  have  passed,  my  decision  may  bring  you 
quiet  and  restful  ease." 

"If  simple,  plain,  unpretentious  honesty  is  one  of 
Heaven's  choicest  virtues,  I  can  but  think,  my  dear 
Miss^Rowdon,  that,  in  the  register  of  the  great  hereafter 
will  be  found  placed  to  your  credit  your  honest  deal 
ings  with  a  devoted,  and  I  trust,  with  an  equally 
honest  lover.  Were  I  to  undertake  to  tell  you  through 
what  I  passed  during  the  week  just  closed,  it  would  be 
a  task  that  I  could  not  finish,  nor  will  you  ever  be  able 
to  comprehend,  in  its  fullness,  my  suffering.  My 
anxiety  became,  at  times,  so  intensified  that  I  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  power  of  reasoning.  My  condition, 
sleeping  or  waking,  seemed  to  be  so  overpowered  by 
fear  that  I  was  indeed  in  a  more  alarmed  condition 
than  he  who  shuddered  under  the  impending  sword  of 
Damocles." 

"In  requiring  you  to  wait  one  week  for  my  answer 
to  your  petition,  I  was  prompted  by  neither  a  spirit  of 
retaliation,  nor  by  cruelty.  I  believed  you  were 
perfectly  honest  in  the  avowals  of  your  deep  and 
ardent  attachment  for  me.  Indeed,  I  hardly  see  how 
one  in  my  condition  could  have  believed  anything  else. 
We  are  so  constituted  that  we  are  prone  to  make  our 
Avish  parent  to  our  thoughts.  It  would  have  been  almost 
murderous  for  one  to  have  come  to  me,  at  any  time  since 
Ihe  first  averment  of  your  affection  for  me,  and  with 
convincing  evidence  have  proven  that  your  assertions  were 
nugatory.  It  really  hurt  me,  I  think,  Prof.  Parsons, 
to  have  to  endure  the  painful  anxiety  of  having  to  wait 
for  the  time  when  you  would  come  for  your  answer,  as 


WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

much  as  it  annoyed  you  to  do  your  waiting.  But  it  is 
all  over  now,  and  you  can,  I  am  sure,  more  readily 
iorgive  me  for  having  you  thus  wait,  than  I  can 
forgive  myself  for  imposing  the  penalty." 

"The  throbbing  of  my  heart  which  seems  to  pulsate 
to  the  music  of  a  song  the  very  melody  of  which  is  an 
intonation  of  peace,  would  hardly  now  allow  me  to 
complain  of  anything  which  is  of  the  past.  The  future — 
The  bright  and  glorious  future,  must  now  become  the 
subject  for  our  consideration,  and,  in  prediction  con- 
•cerning  that  future,  there  can  be  no  part  of  the 
prophetic  picture  perfect  that  has  not  a  place  for  you 
to  fill,  my  dear  Miss  Rowdon." 

''It  is  really  flattering  to  my  vanity,  Prof.  Parsons, 
to  have  you  thus  speak.  Weaving  bright  garlands  for 
future  use,  and  labeling  them  with  my  name,  it  seems 
to  me  is  just  a  little  premature.  However,  I  will 
•overlook  your  enthusiasm,  and  will  give  you  credit  for 
what  you  say,  as  the  result  of  an  impulsive  but  honest 
heart.  There  are  still  m?ny  things  to  be  considered — 
many  questions  to  be  asked  and  answered — possibly 
troubles  to  be  overcome,  before  you  and  I  begin 
together  our  flower-gathering." 

"It  is  well,  Miss  Rowdon,  that  you  can,  for  the 
present  at  least,  ignore  the  romantic,  and  come  down  to 
the  contemplation  of  living  realities.  Just  now  I  am 
too  much  elated  for  that.  I  am  too  proud  of  the 
grand  and  glorious  legacy  that  I  have  just  fallen  heir 
to.  Except  something  can  be  presented  which  has 
connected  therewith  the  loves  and  delights  that  a 
freedom  from  withering  anxiety  and  dubious  suspense 
brings,  I  care  not  to  look  into  it  now.  I  am  too  full  of 
a  buoyant  hope  -at  present  for  the  investigation  of  any 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  269 

matter-of-fact  subject,  and  my  dear  Miss  Rowdon,  my 
elation — my  exhilaration,  and  my  supernal  joy  grew 
out  of  your  answer.  I  am  unspeakably  happy  in  the 
knowledge  that  I  am  the  owner — the  proprietor  of  your 
priceless  love.  I  am  happy  in  the  thought  that  the 
realization  of  a  glad  expectancy  will  culminate  in 
joyous  fruition.  I  am  glad  that  memory  holds  the 
photograph  of  a  living  ideal  which  I  can  now,  in  calm 
and  quiet  delight,  claim  as  all  my  own.  What  panacea 
could  be  found  that  would  bring  greater  relief  to  a  soul 
that  pants  for  alleviation  from  doubt  and  uncertainty?" 

"If,  in  the  gladsome  ebullition  of  a  heart  that  is  too 
full  to  have  its  fullness  held  in  check,  I  should  seem 
to  be  half  wild,  please  forgive  that  exuberance,  my 
dear  Miss  Rowdon,  and  attribute  it  to  the  sudden 
release  of  your  lover  from  the  captivity  of  a  dreadful 
suspense  in  which  he  has  been  held  through  weeks  of, 
painful  solicitude.  If  I  play  the  part  of  an  inebriate, 
remember  my  intoxication  is  the  effect  of  a  potion  of 
joy  which  I  have  quaffed  from  the  cup  you  gave  me." 

"Is  anything  more  than  the  revelations  which  each 
of  us  has  made  to  the  other  necessary  to  constitute  an 
engagement?  If  so,  what  is  it?  We  are  lovers. 
There  can  no  longer  be  any  doubt  on  that  point,"  said 
Parsons.  "  When  that  admission  is  made,  and  then 
fully  interpreted,  what  is  the  interpretation?  Is  it  not 
betrothal  ?  If  not,  what  further  steps  are  necessary  to 
constitute  an  engagement  ?  Are  these  questions  ger 
mane — pertinent  and  necessary  to  our  more  fully 
understanding  each  other?  My  ignorance  just  here  is 
almost  unpardonable,  and  I  must  ask  your  forgiveness, 
Miss  Rowdon,  for  my  exhibit  of  a  want  of  information 
upon  the  point  in  question." 


270  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

"I  presume,  Prof.  Parsons,"  said  Miss  Lunata,  "that, 
having  made  the  admissions  to  each  other  that  we 
have,  that  a  more  perfect  engagement  could  not  be 
made.  Our  having  plighted  constancy  and  unal 
terable  devotion  to  each  other,  it  seems  to  me,  would 
be  a  verbal  record  which  would  stand  the  test  of  the 
moral  law.  If  I  have  consented  to  be  yours,  and  you 
have  promised  to  accept  the  gift,  and  to  live  with  a 
view  to  a  union  at  no  very  distant  date,  I  cannot 
understand  how  a  more  complete  betrothal  could  be 
accomplished.  Does  Heaven  register  the  vows  which 
true  arid  loyal  lovers  make  to  observe  a  life-long  con 
stancy?  If  so,  the  union  of  our  hearts  has  already 
received  the  Divine  sanction,  and  all  that  is  left  to  be 
done,  as  I  take  it,  Professor,  is  to  have  our  acts  ratified 
by  a  mere  formality." 

''Have  you  thought  about  a  time,  Miss  Rowdon, 
when  that  formal  ratification  could  take  place?"  asked 
Parsons.  "Have  you  any  period  in  the  future  which 
you  think  would  be  suitable  to  be  celebrated  by  a 
union  of  our  hands  ?"  "Of  course,  Miss  Rowdon,  this, 
the  finishing  part  of  our  alliance,  together  with  all 
particulars  connected  therewith,  mustbe  left  with 
you." 

"I  will  have  to  take  this  matter,  Professor,  under 
most  rigid  scrutiny.  It  is  an  important  step,  as  you 
are  aware,  and,  of  course,  ought  to  be  taken  cautiously 
and  prudently.  Careful  inquiry  ought  to  be  made  into 
the  circumstances  surrounding  each  of  us.  What  may 
lie  between  us  and  the  consummation  of  our  purpose,  I 
have  no  means  of  knowing.  The  future  alone  can,  and 
must  answer  this  query.  The  important  preliminaries 
leading  up  to  the  question  just  sprung  upon  me,  have 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  271 

been  about  just  as  much  as  I  could  handle  in  one  day, 
and  beyond  the  introduction  and  adjustment  of  these 
preliminaries  I  have  not  dared  to  go.  I  am  inclined  to 
the  opinion,  Prof.  Parsons,,  that,  in  coming  to  an  agree 
ment  in  regard  to  the  last  named  question,  there  will 
be  difficulties  to  encounte,r  and  troubles  to  be  waded 
through  that  neither  you  nor  I  might  suppose  ought 
to  cut  any  figure  in  so  important  a  matter.  I  therefore 
counsel  caution,  circumspection  and  reticence  in 
regard  to  what  has  taken  place  between  you  and  me. 
Neither  of  us,  for  some  time  at  least,  should,  in  my 
judgment,  indulge  ourselves  in  the  pleasure  of  having 
a  confidant." 

The  remainder  of  the  morning  was  spent  in  agree 
able  conversation,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  a 
recapitulation  of  all  that  had  transpired  since  their 
first  meeting — a  frontispiece  and  introductory  chapter 
to  a  history  which  had  yet  to  be  written. 

The  excitement  incident  to  the  unburdening  of  a 
soul  of  its  wealth  of  affection  had  left  the  classic  face 
of  Miss  Rowdon  as  calm  and  peaceful  as  the  unperturbed 
slumber  of  sleeping  innocence.  The  smile  of  soul- 
approving  quietude  rested  upon  her  features,  and 
beamed  in  silent  satisfaction  from  her  tell-tale  eyes. 
Miss  Rowdon  was  happy.  She  had  been  constituted 
and  appointed  sole  guardian  of  a  jewel  which  she 
estimated  to  have  a  priceless  value.  For  the  confidence 
thus  reposed  in  her,  she  had  mortgaged  her  all,  and  no 
one  could  foreclose  that  mortgage  save  the  sign-manual 
of  him  who  had  made  her  the  custodian  of  his  affec 
tions. 

There  was  not  as  much  composure  and  quiet  resig 
nation  with  Parsons  as  was  manifested  by  Miss  Rowdon. 


272  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

The  flush  of  excitement  played  over  his  features.  In 
the  very  midst  of  rapturous  delight  he  betrayed  a 
restless  uneasiness  which  betokened  the  nervous  excite 
ment  under  which  he  was  laboring.  The  conversation 
was  not  spasmodic :  still  there  were  moments  when  he 
would  gaze  listlessly  into  space,  as  though,  with 
strained  vision,  he  would  prophetically  bid  the  future 
be  the  present.  The  very  glow  that  played  over  the 
Professor's  face,  portrayed  the  ravishment  of  transport 
that  was  holding  high  carnival  in  his  soul.  English 
was  a  pauper  dialect  in  which  to  express  the  sublimity 
of  his  joy ;  and  yet  he  reveled  in  the  glory  of  Miss 
Rowdon's  presence  till  the  parting  hour  came. 

Thinking  that  he  had  spent  about  as  much  time  in 
this  visit  as  he  could  well  afford  to  do,  without  the 
possibility  of  awakening  suspicion  in  some  quarter,  he 
arose,  and  with  knightly  courtesy  he  took  the  hand  of 
Miss  Rowdon  in  his  own,  and  turning  it  palm  upward, 
he  imprinted  upon  the  soft,  cushioned  covering  thereof 
his  first  kiss  of  blessing,  and  with  a  kindly  adieu,  was 
gone. 

To  undertake  to  follow  the  ruminations  of  Miss  Lunata 
Rowdon,  after  the  departure  of  Prof.  Parsons,  would 
be  a  perilous  adventure,  provided  her  thoughts  had  to 
be  imparted  to  words.  Miss  Rowdon  had  no  confidant 
save  Parsons.  She  wanted  no  other,  and  as  he  was  now 
gone,  she  assumed  the  character  of  a  monologist,  and 
soliloquised  alone. 

"  As  I  take  a  retrospective  look  over  a  little  more 
than  one  twelve  months  of  my  life  I  am  surprised 
at  myself.  Yea  more,  I  am  surprised  at  everything 
that  has  a  bearing  upon  my  own  history.  The  young 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  v     273 

man  who  has  just  now  left  my  presence,  came  into 
our  neighborhood  a  stranger.  A  prejudice  based  upon 
ignorance  and  which  I  was  injudicious  enough  to  speak 
of,  gossipers  got  hold  of,  and  our  home  was  tabooed  by 
the  young  Professor.  That  I  had  said  anything  to 
offend  him,  I  regretted  ;  not  that  I  was,  in  any  way, 
interested  in  him,  but  because  I  disliked  to  give  any 
one  pain.  I  recanted  what  I  had  said,  and  a  fortuity 
brought  him  to  our  home  as  a  visitor.  Not  to  see  me 
especially  I  am  sure ;  but  his  coming  has  eventuated, 

0  so  very  strangely  !     I  saw  him — I  studied  him — I 
became  entranced  with  his  words — Be  still  heart,  while 

1  say,  I  loved  him  too  !     Yea,  it  soon  came  to  pass 
that  my  mind  was  engrossed  with  the  almost  continual 
wonderment  as  to  what  I  should  do  with  my  extrava 
gant  admiration  for  the  young  teacher.     That  he  was 
worthy,  I  had  abundance  of  evidence  to  prove — that 
he  was  sprightly,  I  had  myself  discovered.     To  meet 
him  and  talk  with  him  became  almost  dangerous,  lest 
there  might  be  some  unintentional  outcropping  of  my 
attachment  for  him. 

"No  one  had,  up  to  the  time  of  my  meeting  him, 
ever  knocked  at  the  door  of  my  heart,  seeking  to  gain 
admittance  to  my  affections,  that  knocked  with  any 
success.  It  is  true  that  Aurelius  Munson  had  long 
shown  his  attachment  for  me,  but  with  no  success 
whatever,  but  when  Prof.  Parsons  put  in  his  key  to 
the  door  of  this  waiting  heart  it  flew  wide  open  and 
he  became  the  accepted  guest  of  my  affections.  How 
strange  !  0  how  very  strange  are  the  incidents  that 
have  culminated  in  my  placing  my  hopes,  my  heart's 
wealth,  yea,  my  all  in  the  keeping  of  Prof.  Parsons  ! 

WHATJlNEXT? — 1 8. 


274  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

"With  the  earnestness  of  a  genuine  and  truly  manly 
nature  he  threw  into  his  pleading  all  the  pathos  of  an 
excited  lover.  I  held  him  at  bay  ;  but,  while  doing  so, 
I  was  even  more  than  anxious  to  show  him  how  I 
appreciated  his  wooing  and  how  gladly  I  felt  disposed 
to  help  his  importunity,  and  give  him  that  for  which 
he  pleaded.  He  eloquently  asked  for  my  heart  and  then 
for  my  hand.  I  have  given  him  the  one  and  have  prom 
ised  him  the  other.  Important  considerations  have 
now  to  be  examined — serious  questions  have  now  to 
be  disposed  of ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  apprehend 
trouble,  but  he  shall  be  mine  nevertheless." 

While  Miss  Rowdon  was  indulging  in  a  soliloquy, 
the  larger  part  of  which  was  with  reference  to  the 
strange  and  fortuitous  incidents  that  had  recently 
transpired  with  her ;  John  Parsons  was,  for  the 
remainder  of  that  Sunday  afternoon,  and  until  a  very 
late  hour  at  night,  engaged  in  the  same  character  of 
study  as  had  occupied  the  mind  of  Miss  Rowdon,  and 
which  he  too  had  been  considering  ever  since  he 
quitted  her  presence.  He  was  almost  wildly  jubilant 
over  the  issue  of  his  recent  visit,  and  lest  he  should  in 
some  way  create  a  suspicion  that  he  was  overjoyed 
over  something  that  had  recently  been  found  to  elate 
him,  and  thereby  put  the  curious  on  the  hunt  to  dis 
cover  what  it  was,  he  betook  himself  to  his  room,  and, 
except  while  at  his  meals,  played  the  part  of  a  recluse. 
But  while  alone  his  mind  was,  by  no  means,  inactive. 
As  ID  the  case  of  Miss  Rowdon,  he  was  engaged  in  a 
review  of  his  life,  and  the  incidents  connected  there 
with  since  his  advent  into  the  Watson  neighborhood. 

After  threading  these  incidents,  one  by  one,  he  was 
finally  brought  to  the  momentous  period  of  the  fore- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  275 

noon  of  that  day — a  forenoon  that  was  fraught  with 
more  of  the  undeveloped  purpose  of  his  life  than  any 
meeting  which  he  had  ever  attended.  He  regarded  it 
as  not  only  an  important  one  to  him,  because  of  its 
freeing  him  from  a  bewildering  doubt,  but  because  of 
the  happifying  and  restful  state  of  mind  in  which  the 
issue  of  that  meeting  had  left  him.  Fortune's  wheel 
had  turned  out  for  him  a  gift — a  priceless  gift.  He  had 
won  the  heart  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon.  She  had  laid 
it  bare  before  him,  and  had  astounded  him  with  the 
revelation  she  made.  He  had  been  rendered  supremely 
happy  by  an  assurance  that  she  not  only  confided  to 
him  her  affections,  but  had  promised  him,  that  in  the 
no  distant  future,  she  would  give  him  her  hand.  That 
she  would  start  with  him  upon  the  sea  of  matrimony, 
and,  whether  upon  that  sea  the  sailing  should  prove 
smooth  and  pleasurable,  or  be  tossed  by  storms  and 
beset  by  perils,  as  long  as  he  was  the  pilot  and  did  his 
part  well,  she  would  have  no  fear  that  their  vessel 
would  be  wrecked.  What  a  superior  pilot,  reasoned 
she,  to  direct,  guide,  and  be  on  the  lookout  for 
dangerous  breakers  ;  what  consoling  company  incny 
disaster,  should  disaster  ever  come  ;  what  pure  and 
comforting  companionship  in  the  midst  of  prosperity. 

With  such  a  declaration,  how  could  Parsons  think 
himself  other  than  one  of  the  most  fortunate  of  men, 
in  securing  by  promise,  a  loving  partner — a  safe  coun 
selor  and  a  prudent  wife. 

No  wonder  that,  under  such  circumstances,  Parsons, 
in  the  quietude  of  his  own  room,  on  that  Sunday 
afternoon,  should  have  been  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight. 
Something  had  been  promised  him — something  in 
retrospection  kept  that  promise  before  him — there  was 


276  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

immeasurable  joy  in  the  contemplation  of  a  boon 
received — there  was  rapturous  satisfaction  in  the 
thought  that,  in  the  no  distant  future,  there  would  be 
a  placing  of  new  marital  vows  upon  the  altar  of  the 
son  of  Phoebus. 

In  the  midst  of  Parsons'  meditations  there  was 
another  matter  that  came  up  for  his  consideration. 
The  horse  of  Aurelius  Munson  still  continued  to  be 
hitched  in  front  of  the  Rowdon  home,  and  gossip  was 
still  rife  in  declaring  that  the  time  was  rapidly  drawing 
on,  when  Munson  and  his  new  suit  of  clothes, 
would  lead  the  fair  Lunata  to  a  marital  ceremony.  This 
long-time  wooer  had  never  had  the  slightest  suspicion 
lodged  in  his  mind  that  any  other  lover  held  a  better 
or  securer  title  to  the  love  and  affections  of  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  than  did  he — that  no  other  pleader 
for  the  right  to  call  her  his,  would  dare  to  intervene 
between  him  and  the  prize  for  which  he  had  so  long 
subjected  his  horse  to  the  glare  and  heat  of  summer's 
sun,  of  blanketing  snow,  of  icy  sleet  and  of  winter's 
biting  winds. 

Parsons  felt  some  sympathy  for  Munson.  His 
untiring  patience — his  unflagging  perseverance  through 
all  the  months,  weeks  and  days  that  he  had  paid 
court  to  Miss  Rowdon,  he  thought,  worthy  of  admira 
tion  ;  but  there  were  two  things  for  which  he  considered 
him  censurable.  In  the  first  place,  he  ought  not  to 
have  continued  to  press  his  claims  upon  the  considera 
tion  of  the  young  lady,  after  she  had,  in  very  explicit 
terms,  given  him  to  understand  that  any  offer  from 
him  would  be  utterly  useless.  In  the  second  place,  he 
ought  to  have  had  more  manliness  than  to  have  urged 
her  to  show  him  favor  because  of  her  father's  wishes. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  277 

The  young  preceptor  was  so  firmly  established  in  the 
faith  which  he  had  in  Miss  Rowdon,  that  the  hitching  of 
Munson's  horse,  in  front  of  her  home,  gave  him  not  the 
slightest  uneasiness.  He  therefore  did  nothing,  nor  said 
anything,  by  which  that  gentleman  should  be  awakened 
to  the  fact  that  his  courting  Miss  Rowdon  had  just  as 
well  be  brought  to  a  close. 

The  Professor  knew,  that  the  time  for  a  disclosure  of 
the  truth  in  regard  to  Miss  Rowdon's  preference  for 
him,  could  not  be  very  long  concealed,  and  he  knew  as 
well,  that  when  the  truth  was  divulged,  it  would  lead 
to  trouble,  probably  through  more  sources  than  one, 
and  he  did  not  feel  disposed  to  introduce  himself  to 
any  trouble  so  long  as  he  could  avoid  it. 

Such  was  the  train  of  thoughts  that  ran  through  the 
young  Professor's  mind,  as  he  sat  in  his  room,  and 
pondered  over  his  environments ;  and,  although  he 
knew  there  was  a  probability  that  some  serious 
entanglements  would  be  encountered  before  the  con 
summation  of  his  maturing  purposes,  he  nevertheless 
determined  to  bide  his  time  with  patience,  and  not  to 
allow  any  prospective  trouble  to  interfere  with  his 
faithful  adherence  to  his  professional  duties,  nor  mar 
his  joy  over  the  triumph  he  had  so  far  achieved.  Miss 
Rowdon,  he  felt  satisfied,  would  be  his  friend,  let  come 
what  might.  With  the  approval  of  an  honest  con 
science,  he  felt  that  nothing,  in  the  way  of  a  false 
accusation,  could  possibly  dethrone  him  from  his  place 
in  her  affections.  Untruths,  he  thought,  would  possi 
bly  be  put  in  circulation  and  used  to  his  detriment, 
just  as  soon  as  Munson  discovered  that  the  young  lady 
was  disposed  to  look  with  any  degree  of  favor  upon 


278  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

the  attentions  of  one  whom  he  would  consider  as  an 
invader  upon  his  rights. 

Parsons  considered  the  position  in  which  he  was 
placed,  as  one  which  would  make  it  necessary  for  him 
to  practice  discretion  rather  than  valor.  He  therefore 
determined  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  every  criticism  which 
might  be  indulged  in,  by  those  whom  Munson  might 
array  against  him,  unless  something  should  be  said, 
that  impinged  upon  his  moral  character.  In  that 
event,  he  would  hold  the  calumniator  to  a  strict 
personal  account  at  all  hazards. 

The  chief  delight  and  happifying  study  which 
occupied  the  mind  of  Parsons  on  that  Sunday  after 
noon  and  night,  was  the  recapitulation  of  what  had 
transpired  within  the  past  twenty-four  hours;  still,  he 
did  not  allow  even  this  exhilerating  theme  to  render 
him  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  the  sterner  duties  of  a 
life  which  he  proposed  soon  to  assume  should  not 
receive  a  due  amount  of  consideration.  Having  become 
the  custodian  of  the  affections  of  a  young  lady  who 
had  nobly  and  grandly  inducted  him  into  the  office, 
and  having  received  from  her  own  honest  lips  the 
promise  that  she  would  soon  transfer  to  his  care  her 
all;  he  thought  that  it  would  be  necessary,  very  soon, 
that  he  should  be  interesting  himself  in  regard  to 
giving  her  a  home  which  might  worthily  shelter  her, 
and  where  the  two  might,  with  calm  delight,  enjoy,  in 
full  fruition,  their  earnest  aims  and  honest  desires. 

The  question  had  been  asked  Miss  Lunata  upon 
which  hinged  his  chances  for  future  happiness — she 
had  answered  that  question,  and  with  the  answer  thereof, 
the  future  had  grown  luminous  with  the  pictures  of  hap 
piness,  which  Hope  hung  up  everywhere  in  John's 


THE  HONEST  THIEF. 

pathway,  and  he  busied  himself  in  examining  these 
pictures,  under  the  effect  of  every  light  and  shade  to' 
which  he  could  possibly  expose  them.  As  these 
pictures  were  created  and  studied,  the  flush  of  heightened' 
color  indicated  that  he  was  aroused  to  action,  but  that 
the  flush  was  nevertheless  the  glow  of  gladness.  Why 
should  it  have  been  otherwise  ?  He  had  his  ideal,  and  in 
the  person  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  he  had  found  all 
the  attributes  that  went  to  make  up  the  impersonation 
of  that  ideal.  The  wooing  had  been  just  such  honest, 
straight-forward  avowals  as  to  place  it  beyond  the 
reach  of  duplicity.  It  had  been  sufficiently  pure  to 
entitle  their  declaration  to  be  registered  in  a  Court 
over  which  angels  preside. 

When  an  important  verbal  contract  has  been 
entered  into  between  two  persons  having  the  most 
implicit  confidence  in  each  other,  there  is  an  unwritten 
register — the  tablet  of  truth  and  honor,  whereon  is 
inscribed,  in  indellible  characters,  the  act  of  plighted 
faith  ;  and  that  the  terms  of  that  contract  will  be  most 
religiously  complied  with.  Between  Miss  Rowdon  and 
himself,  Parsons  felt  that  such  a  contract  had  been 
made,  the  stipulations  of  which  were  neither  intricate 
nor  lengthy.  It  was  verbal,  but  Parsons  believed  it  to 
be  just  as  valid  as  if  it  had  been  embossed  upon  purest 
parchment,  and  consigned  for  safe-keeping  among  the 
archives  of  a  commonwealth.  No  outside  wtnesses 
were  present  to  attest  the  terms  of  agreement.  It  was 
not  necessary.  Honesty,  such  as  characterized  this 
sacred  convenant,  does  not  need  that  a  prying  espion 
age  shall  be  ever  on  the  look-out  to  find  a  wrong  in 
something  which  has  been  done.  Honesty  of  purpose 
had  been  the  director  in  every  move  which  Parsons  had 


280  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

made,  from  the  time  he  was  introduced  to  Miss 
Rowdon  upon  the  veranda  of  her  father's  home  by 
Miss  Lena  Watson,  to  the  time  of  his  placing  the  seal 
of  a  sacred  contract,  in  the  kiss  which  he  had  that 
morning  left  upon  the  upturned  palm  of  her  delicately 
cushioned  hand.  He  was  not  afraid.  In  the  quiet 
deliberations  of  his  Sunday  afternoon's  study,  he  had 
strengthened  his  hope,  allayed  his  apprehensions  and 
confirmed  his  faith,  in  his  ultimate  success,  and  for 
a  time  his  earnest  recapitulations  and  his  prophetic 
anticipations  were  discontinued  ;  when  he  again  asked— 
What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  XV. 

•'In  this  perverted  age, 

Who  most  deserve,  can't  always  most  engage: 
So  far  is  worth  from  making  glory  sure, 
It  often  hinders  what  it  should  procure." 

— Young. 

RESTFUL  sleep  for  the  night  brought  Parsons  to 
the  light  of  the  morning,  refreshed,  and  with  a 
L  jk  mind  at  ease.  With  the  final  settlement  of  the 
question,  which,  upon  investigation,  was  found 
to  have  been  occupying  not  only  the  deliberations  of 
the  young  Professor,  but  had  also  been  weighing  heavily 
upon  the  mind  of  Miss  Rowdon,  there  had  crept  a 
peaceful  and  quiescent  mental  state  upon  each,  which 
neither  had  experienced,  since  the  first  visit  which 
Parsons  made  to  the  Rowdon's. 

When  he  started  that  morning  to  his  school;  while 
winding  his  way  across  a  beautiful  piece  of  timber-land, 
through  which  he  was  accustomed  to  pass,  the  young 
teacher  thought  the  very  blue  of  the  bended  heavens 
stretched  itself  away  in  a  more  graceful  parabola  than 
was  its  wont — the  trees  seemed  to  him  to  wave  in 
more  resplendent  beauty  than  he  had  ever  noticed 
before.  There  was  a  soft  cadence  in  the  music  that 
sighed  amid  the  foliage  of  the  swaying  trees  that  had 
not  hitherto  caught  the  attention  of  his  ears.  Can 
it  be  that  unseen  faries  have  tuned  their  harps  and  are 
playing  a  glad  refrain  in  celebration  of  my  triumph  ? 
The  air,  Parsons  thought,  seemed  to  be  ladened  with 
a  larger  share  of  fragrance  than  usual.  The  sweet 
perfume  of  flowers  seemed  to  rise  about  him  on  every 
hand.  The  birds,  singing  in  orchestral  symphony 
amid  their  woodland  bowers,  lifted  their  chorus  in 


282  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

brighter  songs  than  he  had  hitherto  noted,  and  John 
Parsons  no  longer  envied  them  their  happiness,  for  he 
was  happy  too. 

It  is  somewhat  wonderful  how  the  emotions  of  the 
human  soul  are  influenced  by  the  surroundings.  Like 
the  thermometer,  in  which  the  mercury  is  ever  driven 
between  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold;  the  soul  has 
its  emotions  that  oscillate  between  a  glorious  gladness 
and  the  harrowing  darkness  of  a  dismal  sorrow.  A 
bright  and  cheery  outlook,  such  as  spread  itself  before 
the  vision  of  Prof.  Parsons,  on  this  particular  morning, 
had  carried  his  emotions  to  such  a  height  that  they 
could  hardly  be  kept  from  overflowing  in  one  wild 
rapturous  song  of  exultant  joy — a  song  whose  rhyme 
and  meter  would  each  have  conspired  to  make  it  a  song 
of  supreme  gladness. 

After  the  recent  meeting  which  Parsons  had  had 
with  Miss  Rowdon,  and  the  felicitous  results  of  that 
meeting  had  transpired,  it  cannot  be  a  matter  of  sur 
prise  that  the  young  man  was  in  love  with  everything 
the  world  held  that  was  beautiful.  Miss  Rowdon  was 
the  crowning  glory  of  the  world's  attractions  for  him. 
He  loved  her — she  was  beautiful,  and  his  aesthetic 
taste  made  him  a  worshiper  of  beauty — she  was  gener 
ous  and  he  considered  her  generosity  as  an  attribute 
which  allied  her  to  divinity,  and  therefore  worthy  of 
semi-adoration.  Her  magnanimity,  her  honesty,  and 
her  unselfishness  he  regarded  as  a  combination  of  rare 
attributes,  and,  because  of  them,  he  admired  her  the 
more.  With  all  these  to  adorn  the  young  lady,  it  is 
not  wonderful  that  his  expressions  of  devotional 
attachment  for  her  having  been  fully  reciprocated,  he 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  283 

should  have  found  himself  in  love  with  everything 
that  would  have  constituted  a  theme  for  the  minstrel's 
lay,  or  an  inspiration  for  the  pen  of  the  bard. 

Let  the  kind  reader  be  not  too  critical,  nor  complain 
of  the  sentimentalism  which  is  couched  herein.  Unless 
the  spiritual  nature — the  veritable  ego — the  real  self, 
has  been  rendered  misanthropic  through  some  heart 
disappointment,  or  mayhap  have  had  the  higher  sensi 
bilities  of  nature  blunted  by  an  avaricious  bargain-and- 
sale  matrimonial  alliance  ;  it  will  not  be  hard  to  call 
up  from  the  past,  something  akin  to  the  sentimental- 
ism  manifested  by  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss  Lunata 
Rowdon.  Young  people  are  more  enthusiastic  than 
the  old.  Their  blood  makes  its  rounds  with  more 
exhilarating  rapidity,  and  they  are  therefore  more  given 
to  having  the  emotions  lead  them  than  are  the  old .  It  is  a 
difficult  task  'to  put  old  heads  upon  young  shoulders', 
as  the  adage  goes,  but  it  ought  not  to  be  hard  for 
memory  to  call  up  the  days  of  excitement,  of  unrest, 
of  expectancy,  through  which  you  passed  and  which 
half-divested  you  of  the  power  of  reason.  Remember 
ing  this,  you  can  readily  offer  your  own  case  to  plead 
an  excuse  for  Parsons'  sentimentalism.  Possibly  the 
complaining  reader  may  be  a  case-hardened  specimen 
of  the  genus  homo,  whose  soul  has  been  too  much 
engrossed  with  opinionated  flattery  of  himself  to  dis 
cover  either  rhyme  or  reason  in  the  conduct  of  the 
young  Professor.  To  such  a  reader  it  might  be 
suggested,  that  a  heart  which  can  neither  be  moved  by 
pity,  nor  love  anything  else  than  self,  adverse  criticism 
upon  the  part  of  the  critic  of  a  case  like  the  one  which 
is  presented  in  this  volume,  is  but  an  advertisement 
that  the  smallness  of  that  soul,  makes  loving  an  impos 
sibility. 


284  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

Allusion  has  heretofore  been  made  to  the  general 
character  of  the  family  with  which  young  Parsons 
boarded.  Plainness,  frugality  and  kindness,  were  the 
leading  features  of  the  family  generally.  The  ignor 
ance  of  the  three  young  men  in  the  Watson  family  was 
a  matter  of  surprise  to  young  Parsons ;  especially, 
when  their  ignorance  was  compared  with  the  general 
intelligence  of  the  two  grown  daughters.  Alf  Watson, 
the  eldest  of  the  sons,  was  a  coarse,  rough,  rugged  kind 
of  creature  who  did  not  live  with  the  home  family,  but 
who  made  it  a  weekly  visit.  Notwithstanding  the 
ignorance  of  the  last  mentioned  Watson,  he  was  not 
conscious  of  his  mental  inferiority,  but  arrogated  to 
himself  an  importance  which  his  ignorance  rendered 
exceedingly  absurd.  Alf.  Watson  gave  Parsons  con 
siderable  trouble,  in  consequence  of  his  having  a  desire 
to  make  of  him  a  kind  of  chum  or  especial  friend. 
He  wanted  to  visit  with  Parsons  and  be  introduced  by 
him  into  society.  All  of  this  was,  of  course,  very  dis 
tasteful  to  Parsons,  and  yet,  for  fear  of  offending  the 
family,  he  did  show  Alf.  some  kindness,  and  in  a  few 
instances  introduced  him  to  young  ladies. 

While  the  young  men  of  the  Watson  household 
wrere  by  no  means  suited  to  be  the  companions  of  Prof. 
Parson,  still,  for  the  sake  of  the  rest  of  the  family,  he 
treated  them  kindly,  and  without  any  familiarity  kept 
their  esteem.  He  appreciated  the  uniform  kindness  of 
Mrs.  Watson  and  her  two  daughters.  They  made  his 
surroundings  as  pleasant  and  agreeable  as  they  could 
be  made  by  their  contributions  to  his  comfort.  In 
other  words,  the  Watson  home  suited  Parsons  as  a  place 
in  which  -to  study  books,  but  was  a  disadvantageous 
location  in  which  to  to  studv  the  muses.  It  was  an 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  285 

excellent  place  to  hear  the  common  gossip  that  might 
be  afloat  in  the  neighborhood,  but  a  place  illy  suited, 
even  among  its  honest-hearted  household  of  women,  to 
seek  to  make  confidants.  They  talked  too  much.  A 
common  predisposition  to  garrulity  was  one  of  the  chief 
faults  of  the  family.  Parsons  having  discovered  this, 
determined,  therefore,  to  be  ever  on  his  guard. 

It  had  not  entered  the  mind  of  Prof.  Parsons  that 
anj'  one  had  heard  enough  of  what  had  taken  place 
between  him  and  Miss  Rowdon,  to  build  thereon  the 
report  that  he  had  become  an  acceptable  wooer  of 
the  young  lady,  nor  that  she  was  thinking  very 
much  more  favorably  of  his  semi-occasional  visits, 
than  of  the  almost  daily  calls  which  one  Aurelius 
Munson  was  still  making.  Parsons  knew,  that,  having 
counseled  prudent  reticence  upon  his  part,  Miss  Lunata 
would  not  think  of  intrusting  their  secret  to  any  one, 
and  how  any  one  had  discovered  enough  to  justify  a 
suspicion  that  he  had  a  deep  and  growing  interest  in 
the  young  lady — an  interest  which  was  exceedingly 
threatening  to  the  suit  of  Mr.  Munson,  was  more  than 
he  could  divine. 

Such  a  suspicion  had  been  aroused,  and,  as  was 
subsequently  learned,  it  had  been  aroused  by  an 
innocent  and  inadvertant  remark  of  one  of  the  younger 
sisters  of  Miss  Lunata ;  and,  from  that  remark,  Parsons 
became,  to  some  extent,  at  least,  the  target  for  the 
common  gossip  monger  and  was  brought  under  the 
suspicion  of  Miss  Lunata's  father.  In  consequence  of 
the  solicitude  which  Mr.  Rowdon  felt  in  the  ultimate 
union  of  his  daughter  with  Munson,  he  instituted  a 
kind  of  inquisitorial  arrangement  whereby  he  might 
ascertain  what  Parsons'  visits  to  his  daughter  meant.. 


286  WHAT   NEXT?   OR 

Upon  first  hearing  the  rumor,  he  felt  somewhat  dis 
posed  to  go  directly  to  his  daughter  and  learn  the  facts 
from  her,  but  subsequently  determined  upon  a  different 
course. 

A  few  days  after  the  last  recorded  meeting  between 
the  Professor  and  Miss  Lunata,  a  conversation  had 
been  held  between  Miss  Watson  and  himself,  in  which 
she  informed  him  that  it  was  currently  reported  in  the 
neighborhood  that  Aurelius  Munson  had  grown  very 
suspicious  of  his  attentions  to  Miss  Rowdon,  and  that 
Munson's  jealously  had  put  him  upon  the  alert,  that 
he  might  discover,  if  possible,  the  intention  of  these 
visits.  But  Miss  Watson  was  careful  to  have  the 
Professor  understand  that  the  information  imparted 
was  because  of  her  personal  friendship  for  him  ;  and 
that  he  being  thus  forewarned,  might  be  forearmed.  She 
told  him  that  being  advised  as  to  what  was  taking 
place,  she  thought  he  would  be  able  to  meet  and  defeat 
any  effort  which  Munson  might  set  on  foot,  with  a  view 
to  making  further  discoveries. 

The  advice  which  Miss  Rowdon  had  left  with 
Parsons  rendered  him  more  circumspect  and  wary  than 
he  would  probably  have  otherwise  been  ;  and,  without 
manifesting  any  special  interest  in  the  communicated 
information,  or  even  deigning  to  make  any  criticism 
upon  what  she  had  told  him,  he  kindly  thanked  Miss 
Lena  for  her  generously  imparted  knowledge,  and  for 
the  interest  she  had  thereby  manifested  in  him,  and 
then  waived  the  further  consideration  of  the  subject. 

The  suspicion,  awakened  in  the  mind  of  Munson,  as 
reported  by  Miss  Watson,  even  if  he  had  had  unmis 
takable  proof  of  its  truth,  would  not  have  been  a 
matter  of  any  surprise  to  John  Parsons.  In  fact,  had 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  287 

the  existence  of  any  claim  upon  the  part  of  Munson  to 
the  especial  consideration  of  Miss  Rowdon  been  found 
to  exist,  the  surprise  would  have  been,  over  the  fact 
that  the  cry  of  jealousy  had  not  been  started  sooner. 

Whether  the  investigations  of  the  long-time  wooer 
resulted  in  any  confirmations  of  his  suspicions  or  not, 
at  any  rate,  the  hitching  of  that  self  same  horse  con 
tinued  to  attract  the  attention  of  Prof.  Parsons,  every 
day  or  two,  as  he  passed  to  and  from  his  school. 
Familiar  as  the  sight  became,  however,  he  was  only 
disposed  to  wonder  at  Munson 's  persistency  even  in 
face  of  the  repeated  and  stubborn  refusals  of  Miss 
Rowdon  to  consider  his  visits  in  any  other  light  than  as 
a  friend,  and  to  gratify  her  father.  The  frequency  of  his 
visits  seemed  to  be  only  an  advertisement  of  his 
ignorance,  and  if  Miss  Lunata  could  have  been  per 
mitted  to  exercise  her  own  will  in  the  matter,  she 
would  have  politely,  but  peremptorily  ordered  him  to 
cease  his  tri-weekly  calls.  Especially  would  she  have 
been  pleased  to  resort  to  this  course,  after  her  engage 
ment  to  Parsons;  but  she  feared  that  in  pursuing  such 
a  course,  she  might  arouse  the  ire  of  her  father,  and 
thereby  defeat  a  purpose  which  was  intended  for  good. 

In  the  midst  of  all  that  the  many-mouthed  gossips 
were  engaged  in  distributing  throughout  the  country — 
in  the  face  of  what  the  Watson  women  were  saying  to 
him,  from  time  to  time,  about  the  danger  he  incurred  in 
attemping  to  jostle  Munson  from  a  position  of  fancied 
security,  Parsons  moved  quietly  forward  in  the  full  dis 
charge  of  his  professional  duties.  But,  amid  it  all,  he 
turned  neither  an  unwary  eye  nor  a  deaf  ear  to  what 
was  taking  place  about  him.  He  had  a  shrewd,  sharp, 
discriminating  intellect  and  allowed  everybody  to  say 


288  WHAT  ISTEXT?  OK 

what  they  pleased  about  his  attentions  to  Miss  Rowdonr 
without  denying,  or  sanctioning  anything  that  was  said. 
He  exhibited  a  sufficiency  of  self-reliance  to  ask  no 
one  where  certain  reports  had  their  origin,  and  was 
sufficiently  independent  to  have  his  bearing  show  that 
he  detested  a  cringing  servilitj'.  He  bowed  to  no  one 
to  win  popularity.  He  coveted  esteem,  but  wanted  it 
to  come  to  him  as  a  mark  of  merit.  He  desired  to  be 
popular,  but  wanted  a  popularit3r  that  was  based  upon 
manly  conduct  and  honest  worth. 

Another  week  passed,  and  again  the  Professor  did 
himself  the  very  great  pleasure  of  making  Miss  Rowdon 
a  visit.  Talk  about  too  much  sentimentalism 
indeed  !  Where  could  two  individuals,  with  surround 
ings  such  as  encompassed  John  Parsons  and  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  be  found  who  would  not  be  disposed 
to  do  just  what  these  young  people  did,  when  they 
met  upon  this  occasion  ?  Do  you  blame  them  or  even 
criticise  them  for  calling  up  memories  of  the  past 
about  which  there  clustered  the  brightest  joys  upon 
which  their  minds  had  ever  feasted  ?  Do  you  censure 
them  for  renewing  their  vows  of  eternal  constancy? 
Do  you  criticise  them  for  setting  their  seal  upon  the 
immutable  decree,  that  they  would  live  for  each  other? 
Do  you  cry  sentimentalism,  because  these  two  ardent 
and  devotional  lovers  renewed  their  pledges  to  prepare 
to  embark  together  at  no  distant  day  upon  a  matrimo 
nial  venture — to  tempt  the  winds  and  try  the  storms  of 
life  together,  let  come  what  might?  Do  you  answer 
all  these  queries,  or  any  one  of  them,  in  the  affirmative  ? 
If  you  do,  then  the  fountain  of  youthful  aspirations 
must  have  been  eliminated  from  your  nature,  or  if 
there  was  ever  an  impression  made  upon  your  soul,  by 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  289 

the  gladsome  smile  and  acknowledged  beauty  of  a  fair 
woman,  the  fountain  of  that  soul's  real  worth  has 
surely  become  a  "  broken  cistern"  and  has  irremedi 
ably  lost  its  power  of  holding  an  appreciation  of  beauty 
or  moral  worth. 

After  the  conversation  had  been  continued  for  some 
time,  during  this  hebdomadal  visit,  the  two  walked  to 
the  front  door  of  the  parlor,  and  still  continuing  their 
talk,  Miss  Rowdon  remarked  to  Parsons,  that  she 
believed  she  had  heard  him  say  he  was  opposed  to 
wearing  jewelry  upon  his  hands — especially  large,  gaudy 
and  brilliantly  stone-set  rings.  This  being  the  case, 
said  she,  I  desire  to  take  this  light,  plain  gold  ring 
from  my  own  hand  and  put  it  upcn  yours.  Suiting  the 
action  to  the  words,  she  removed  the  ring  from  her  own 
hand  and  slipped  it  upon  the  third  finger  of  Parsons' 
left  hand,  and,  while  doing  so,  remarked  that  she  wanted 
him  to  wear  it  as  a  symbol  of  her  verbal  pledge.  In 
its  plainness,  she  told  him,  it  would  symbolize  the 
unostentatious  love  of  her  young  life.  In  its  purity  it 
would  emblemize  the  character  of  the  affection  her 
poor  heart  would  lavish  upon  him.  In  its  endless 
circuit,  it  would  betoken  the  ceaseless  rotation  of  the 
years  through  which  both  of  them  might  possibly  be 
spared  to  live,  and  during  which  time  she  intended  to 
love  him  ever. 

"The  qualifying  epithets,  Miss  Rowdon,  which  I 
have  heretofore  used  in  addressing  you,"  said  Prof. 
Parsons,  "are  too  tame — too  cold — too  inexpressive.  I 
would  fain  use  something  more  directly  indicative  of 
the  new  relation  that  exists  between  us.  Let  me  use 
some  form  of  expression  that  contains  more  of  tender- 

WHAT  NEXT? — 19. 


290  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

ness.  Your  gift  demands  this.  Let  me.  therefore, 
address  you  as  my  present  impulses  would  suggest.  Let 
the  sublimity  of  my  devotion  for  you  have  its  way.  Yea, 
let  my  tongue,  in  accents  of  tenderness,  use  a  qual 
ifying  expression  that  is  justly  yours,  from  me.  Let 
me  say,  my  dear  Miss  Lunata.  You  will  not,  I  am 
sure,  consider  this  too  familiar.  You  are  certainly  a 
heroine  of  no  mean  pretentious.  From  such  a  brave  spirit 
I  can  gladly  accept  the  gift  presented  me,,  with  all  the 
symbolization  which  you  have  appended  thereto  and  so 
handsomely  explained.  Plainness  ;  purity  ;  endlessness! 
This  covers  the  whole  case.  May  the  Ruler  of  Sweep 
ing  Justice  keep  me  and  the  emblematic  token  insep- 
erable. 

In  the  conference  which  took  place  during  this  meet 
ing,  something  looking  to  the  preliminaries  that  must 
necessarily  precede  the  union  of  their  hands  in  the  sol 
emnization  of  a  holy  wedlock  were  freely  discussed;  but, 
after  all  the  pro's  and  con's  had  been  considered,  it 
was  finally  decided  that  it  would  be  the  best  and  safest 
policy  to  postpone  the  consideration  of  anything  look 
ing  to  the  final  consummation  of  their  wishes,  to  a 
future  time.  The  reasons,  which  were  adduced  by 
Miss  Rowdon  for  this  conclusion,  were  so  pertinent  and 
so  cogent,  that  Parsons  yielded  thereto  a  ready  and 
willing  assent. 

In  the  course  of  their  conversation,  Prof.  Parsons 
incidentally  mentioned  the  note  of  warning  which  Miss 
Lena  Watson  had  sounded  in  his  ears  in  regard  to  the 
aroused  suspicions  of  Aurelius  Munson.  Upon  this 
information  a  slight  shadow  flitted  across  the  face  of 
Miss  Rowdon  but  soon  disappeared.  The  only  com 
ment  she  made  in  regard  to  this  news,  was,  that  if  it 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  291 

were  true,  she  feared  it  boded  evil  to  him,  and  possibly 
trouble  to  her  as  well.  The  Professor  had  not  thought 
the  information  he  had  received  from  Miss  Watson  was 
of  any  special  importance,  and  hence  it  had  given  him 
but  little  concern.  When,  however,  he  saw  that  pass 
ing  shadow  settle  for  the  moment  upon  the  usually 
placid  face  of  Miss  Rowdon,  he  became  at  once 
interested  in  getting  at  the  cause  of  that  transient 
shadow.  Being  disposed  to  press  her  as  to  whether 
she  attached  any  special  importance  to  the  news  which 
he  had  received  from  Miss  Watson,  she  very  adroitly 
foiled  him  in  his  inquiry,  by  saying:  "Never  mind; 
trouble  comes  soon  enough,  without  our  running  out 
to  meet  it." 

It  was  very  evident  that  Miss  Lunata  saw,  in  what 
Miss  Watson  had  communicated  to  the  Professor,  a 
kind  of  prophecy  of  evil — evil  such  as  she  did  not  feel 
disposed  to  reveal  to  him — evil  from  a  source,  which, 
if  not  averted,  would  give  immeasurable  pain  to  her, 
and  fill  him  with  chagrin  and  justifiable  contempt. 

What  to  do,  or  what  disposition  to  make  of  the 
impending  trouble  was  a  problem,  with  the  solution  of 
which,  she  felt  herself  unable  to  cope.  Poor  Lunata ! 
How  her  heart  throbbed  in  anxious  solicitude,  when 
she  saw  there  was  destined  to  be  a  scene  of  serious 
trouble,  whenever  it  became  apparent  that  she  had  not 
the  slightest  idea  of  listening  to  the  addresses  of  the  per 
sistent  Munson.  Her  father  she  knew  had  considered 
her,  BO  far,  as  over  young  to  marry,  and  had  conse 
quently  never  mentioned  the  matter  of  a  matrimonal 
alliance  between  her  and  his  friend  Munson ;  but  she 
knew,  that  should  he  learn  she  had  a  partiality  for  the 
young  Professor,  he  would  raise  a  trouble  with  her,  and 


292  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

this  she  could  not  even  contemplate  without  a  shudder. 
Her  father  had  always  been  especially  kind  to  her,  and 
the  prospect,  of  an  estrangement  from  him,  was  a 
thing  she  could  hardly  bear  to  think  of.  She  had  but 
little  doubt  that  her  father,  just  as  soon  as  he  discov 
ered  that  Prof.  Parsons  had  been  paying  occasional 
visits  to  her,  would  conclude  that  these  visits  had 
broken  in  upon  his  cherished  plans,  and  the  full 
amount  of  his  ire  would  be  visited  upon  the  unoffend 
ing  and  unsuspecting  young  teacher.  She  knew,  full 
well,  that  if  the  jealousy  of  Munson  had  been 
sufficiently  aroused,  to  induce  him  to  believe  that  the 
time  for  his  hitching  his  horse  in  front  of  her  home 
had  about  passed,  he  would  be  sure  to  devise  some 
plan  by  which  her  father  would  be  informed  of  the 
danger  of  losing  his  daughter,  and  gaining  as  a  son-in- 
law,  a  young  man  without  means,  and  without  any 
rich  kin.  Miss  Lunata  was  in  a  very  great  deal  of 
uneasiness  over  what  she  wras  apprehensive  would  be  a 
stirring  trouble  in  her  home,  and  possibly  a  trouble 
outside  of  her  home,  between  her  father  and  Professor 
Parsons.  That  any  outside  trouble  would  occur,  previ 
ous  to  a  full  understanding  by  her  father,  of  the 
condition  of  affairs  between  Munson  and  herself,  as 
well  as  between  Prof.  Parsons  and  herself,  she  did  not 
suspect,  and  only  hoped  that  something  might  occur 
which  would  prevent  an  impending  calamity. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  incidents  recorded  in  the 
three  or  four  preceeding  paragraphs,  Prof.  Parsons  met 
Miss  Rowdon  at  a  country  church — a  great  place  for  the 
assembling  of  a  large  congregation,  and  for  an  unusually 
large  gathering  of  young  people.  Parsons  was  among 
the  visitors,  and,  having  discovered  that  Miss  Rowdon 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  293 

"was  present,  wrote  a  request  upon  a  card  and  had  it 
passed  to  her  in  the  church,  asking  the  privilege  of 
•escorting  her  home.  As  soon  as  she  had  read  the  note, 
and  discovered  that  he  was  watching  her,  she  nodded 
an  assent. 

With  the  conclusion  of  the  services,  Parsons  assisted 
Miss  Rowdon  to  mount  her  horse,  and,  after  waiting  a 
lew  moments  for  three  young  ladies  and  their  attend 
ants,  who  were  to  accompany  Miss  Lunata  home,  the 
double  quartette  started  at  a  lively  gait  along  the 
highway.  Upon  reaching  the  home  of  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon,  he  met  the  guests  with  becoming  Kentucky 
hospitality,  as  far  as  was  discernible  to  the  company 
generally.  His  reception  of  Parsons,  however,  was,  by 
no  means,  what  it  ought  to  have  been.  The  keen 
preceptive  faculties  of  the  young  teacher  discovered  at 
once  that  there  was  a  wrong  somewhere.  While  the 
other  young  men  who  were  present  had  noticed  noth 
ing  unusual  in  his  deportment  towards  any  one  of  his 
guests,  Parsons  had.  It  is  true,  Mr.  Rowdon's  slight 
was  disguised,  and,  as  the  Professor  rightly  surmised, 
was  intended  for  him.  His  high-spirited  pride  was 
wounded,  but  he  was  wholly  without  any  means  of 
redress.  He  was  even  barred  from  making  inquiry  as 
to  whether  the  offense  was  intended  or  only  an  inadvert 
ency.  He  believed  he  had  the  key  to  Mr.  Rowdon's 
conduct,  but  was  not  confident.  His  face  flushed;  his 
ears  burned  ;  his  heart  throbbed,  but  otherwise  he 
showed  himself  to  be  a  man  "for  a'  that." 

The  conclusions  which  Parsons  drew  in  regard  to  the 
affront  offered  him,  were  reached  by  the  interpretation 
which  he  gave  to  the  peculiar  conduct  of  Miss  Lunata's 
father  upon  the  arrival  of  the  young  ladies  and  gentle- 


294  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

men  who  had  accompanied  his  daughter  home  from 
church,  and  who,  according  to  the  hospitable  custom 
of  that  time  in  Kentucky,  had  been  invited  home  with 
Miss  Rowdon,  with  the  expectation  of  their  remaining 
to  partake  of  a  bountiful  dinner  that  awaited  their 
arrival.  From  the  reception  which  parsons  received  at 
the  hands  of  the  host,  he  was  not  slow  in  deciding  that 
he,  at  least,  had  not  been  expected.  That  he  might 
free  himself  from  the  possible  imputation  of  acting 
upon  a  suspicion,  he  decided  to  put  the  matter  to  a 
test  by  quitting  the  company  as  it  was  about  ready  to 
repair  to  the  dining  room.  He  well  knew  that  the 
rules  of  hospitality,  when  he  indicated  his  purpose  to 
leave,  would  make  it  incumbent  upon  Mr.  Rowdon  to 
politely  insist  upon  his  remaining  to  dinner.  If  Mr. 
Rowdon  failed  to  make  this  exhibition  of  the  rules 
of  ordinary  etiquette,  the  Professor  could  rest  assured 
that  his  interpretations  of  the  actions  of  the  host  would 
be  altogether  correct.  He  would,  if  such  marked 
indifference  were  shown  him,  know  that  for  some  reason, 
as  yet  to  be  explained,  Mr.  Rowdon's  feelings  toward 
him  had  undergone  a  very  marked  change.  The  ruse 
to  discover  what  was  possibly  a  suspicion,  when  tested, 
developed  the  fact  that  Mr.  Rowdon  had  found  an 
imperfection  in  Parsons,  sufficient  to  bar  him  from 
being  invited  to  remain  for  dinner.  This  was  enough, 
and  the  chagrin  and  mortification  of  the  }Toung  teacher 
was  inexpressibly  severe.  He  at  once  excused  himself 
to  the  young  company,  and,  donning  his  overcoat,  with 
hat  in  hand,  he  politely  bowed  himself  out  of  their 
midst  and  was  gone. 

As  the  Professor  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  Rowdon 
mansion,  he  carried  with   him  the  conviction  that  he 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  295 

had  done  nothing  to  justify  any  such  treatment.  That 
he  desired  to  play  the  part  of  a  true  gentleman,  and 
that  he  had  succeeded  in  doing  so,  since  his  advent 
into  that  community,  was  almost  universally  conceded. 
But,  he  was  now  confronted,  as  he  thought,  with  the 
decision  by  one  person  at  least,  that  a  correct  life 
unadorned  by  the  fortuitous  gifts  of  Plutus  amounted 
to  nothing — that  moral  and  mental  worth  were  no 
longer  requisites  worthy  of  [commendation — that  pass 
ports  to  good  society  were  plethoric  purses  of  gold  or  a 
good  sized  bank  deposit — that  indemnity,  against  mis 
treatment,  was  insured  by  a  title  to  a  specified  number 
of  acres  of  land — that  brains  were  at  a  discount — gentle 
manly  politeness  below  par — honesty  a  myth  and 
education  valueless. 

In  the  intercourse  which  Prof.  Parsons  had  so  far 
had  with  the  world,  no  one  would  have  thought  of 
styling  him  a  society  man.  He  was  popular  because 
he  had  all  the  requisites  to  render  him  popular.  He 
was,  as  we  have  already  discovered,  a  gentleman  by 
birth,  a  scholarly  devotee  of  everything  beautiful,  and 
was  recognized  as  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  highest 
commendation  by  the  best  people  in  the  land.  Indeed 
he  was  not  only  courteously  and  kindly  received  by  the 
best  people,  but  was  often  toasted  by  the  very  best 
society  in  the  country.  It  is  therefore  not  a  matter  of 
surprise  that  he  should  have  felt  the  keen  smart  of  a 
painful  mortification,  at  being  slighted  by  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon. 

In  addition  to  the  mistreatment  which  the  Professor 
had  received  at  the  hands  of  Lunata's  father,  simply 
from  want  of  a  just  appeciation  of  the  very  qualities 
that  belong  to  true  manhood,  the  stunning  fact  stared 


296  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

him  in  the  face  that  this  was  the  father's  first  manifes 
tation  of  a  disapprobation  of  his  being  recognized  as 
the  friend  of  his  daughter.  He  therefore  saw  in  this 
act  the  foreshadowing  of  an  amount  of  trouble  that 
might  possibly  culminate  in  his  complete  overthrow, 
so  far  as  his  being  able  to  carry  forward  the  purposes 
decreed  between  him  and  Miss  Rowdon  were  concerned. 
If  the  young  lady  remained  true  to  her  declarations,  he  saw 
no  way  to  avert  the  coming,  sooner  or  later  of  an  open  rup 
ture  between  the  father  and  daughter.  With  this,  as  the 
outlook,  he  grew  sad.  He  was  confident  that  Miss 
Lunata  had  noticed  the  slight  of  her  father,  and  won 
dered  what  effect  it  would  have  upon  her.  Would  her 
filial  devotion  to  her  father  sanction  his  rash  act,  or 
would  she  sympathize  with  him  ?  This  question  seemed 
to  almost  burn  itself  into  his  mind,  and  yet  there  was 
no  way  out  of  the  dilemma. 

He  took  the  matter  home  with  him.  He  anxiously 
pondered  over  it  for  hours,  and  at  length  concluded  that 
the  best  policy  to  be  pursued,  under  the  existing  state  of 
affairs,  would  be  to  disarm,  if  possible,  the  suspicion 
which  had  been  aroused  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Rowdon. 
To  accomplish  this,  he  thought  it  would  be  absolutely 
necessary  that  he  relinquish,  ostensibly,  all  claims  to 
the  especial  friendship  of  Miss  Lunata.  This  conclu 
sion  he  decided  to  communicate  to  her  clandestinely. 
He  believed  it  would  meet  her  approbation,  for 
she  knew  the  affront  he  had  received  would  be  a  per 
petual  bar  to  his  visiting  her  at  home.  But  he  believed 
as  well  that  she  would  remain  true  to  her  vows — true 
to  the  expressions  of  deep  rooted  devotion  which 
she  had  evinced  for  him — true  to  her  pledges,  even 
if  in  so  doing  she  challenged  the  frowns  of  an 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  297 

irate  father — true  to  her  expression  of  admiration 
for  the  qualities  which  she  had  so  often  claimed 
were  indicative  of  manhood,  honor,  and  moral  worth. 
Yea,  with  unalterable  fidelity,  true  to  every  principle 
of  right,  even  if  in  so  doing  she  brought  herself  into 
open  antagonism  with  unwarranted  prejudice. 

In  addition  to  the  crushing  fact  that  Mr.  Rowdon, 
as  the  father  of  the  young  lady  who  had  become  the 
idol  of  Parsons'  devotional  admiration,  might  give  that 
idol  serious  trouble,  came  also  the  thought,  that  the 
shrine  whereon  his  most  devout  oblations  had  been 
-offered,  would,  by  her  father,  if  possible,  have  its  fires 
extinguished.  He  said  "«7  possible,"  for  he  did  not 
believe  the  father's  authority  was  sufficiently  potent  to 
change  any  resolve  his  daughter  had  made. 

In  addition  to  the  trouble  already  preying  upon  the 
mind  of  Parsons,  there  had  come  upon  him  the 
humiliating  discovery,  that  other  young  men,  with 
no  higher  claim  to  kind  consideration  or  polite  treat 
ment  than  he  had,  were  preferred  before  him — that 
other  men  with  no  better  passports  into  good  society 
than  he  had,  were  hospitably  entertained,  while  he  had 
been  snubbed,  because  forsooth,  he  had  a  high  appre 
ciation  of  gentlemanly  deportment  and  strict  integrity — 
that  other  men,  with  no  cleaner  record  than  he  carried, 
should  outrank  him  in  the  estimation  of  a  man,  who, 
for  sordid  reasons,  was  willing  to  sacrifice  a  daughter's 
wishes,  by  having  her  wed  a  boor  and  weep  through 
life. 

The  other  young  men  who  were  visitors  at  the- 
Rowdon  mansion,  upon  the  before  mentioned  Sunday 
afternoon,  were  nice  gentlemen;  but  the  puzzling 
thought  in  the  mind  of  Parsons  was,  as  to  what  any  of 


298  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

them  had  to  commend  him  to  the  kind  treatment  and 
urbane  hospitality  of  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon  more  than  had 
he.  Each  .of  them  was  a  dry  goods  salesman — an 
honorable  calling  surely.  Each  of  them  dressed  well — 
no  one,  I  presume,  would  have  challenged  their  right 
to  buy  such  clothes  as  suited  them.  Each  of  them  was 
said  to  have  sprung  from  honorable  parentage,  and  one 
of  them  traced  a  pedigree  through  several  generations, 
to  a  family  of  aristocrats  in  the  "Old  Dominion."  But 
neither  of  them  had  any  gold-lined  recommendation, 
whereby  they  expected  to  pave  their  way  into  public 
favor.  Each  of  these  young  men  were  poor,  but 
honest;  each  depended,  forself-maintainance,  upon  wrhat 
he  received  as  a  salaried  day  laborer.  Parsons,  know 
ing  these  facts,  could  but  start  the  inquiry  as  to  what 
it  was  that  made  any  one  of  these  clever  young  men 
better  than  he  ;  and,  having  started  the  question,  he 
found  the  answer  to  it  in  the  fact  that  no  one  of  them 
had  created  the  suspicion  that  his  visits  were  made 
with  the  view  of  capturing  the  affections  of  his  daughter, 
and  thereby  spoiling  a  cherished  plan  of  having  her 
wed  Aurelius  Munson. 

So  far  as  visiting  Miss  Rowdon  in  her  home  was  con 
cerned,  Parsons  had  fully  decided  that  to  be  a  foregone 
conclusion,  at  the  time  of  his  last  visit ;  but  with  equal 
promptness  he  fully  determined  that  he  would  devise 
some  plan  by  which  he  could  still  communicate  with 
her,  and,  whereby,  he  could  occasionally  see  her  in 
person.  He  stoutly  maintained  that  some  way  out  of 
a  difficulty  which  he  thought  was  possibly  yet  in  its 
incipiency,  must  be  discovered.  What  that  way  was, 
he  had  not  yet  worked  out,  and  was  consequently  unpre 
pared  to  take  any  steps.  To  stand  still  seemed  hazardous 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  299 

— to  make  any  move  appeared  fraught  with  danger.  In 
the  midst  of  this  indeterminate  state  of  mind,  Parsons 
decided  to  hold  the  matter  in  abeyance  until  he  could 
have  a  personal  conference  with  Miss  Rowdon,  or  com 
municate  with  her  by  letter.  He  had  concluded  that 
there  must  be  some  means  devised  whereby  the  suspi 
cions  of  Mr.  Rowdon  could  be  allayed,  at  any  rate, 
temporarily ;  but,  as  to  what  means  could  be  set  on 
foot  to  accomplish  that  purpose,  he  decided  was  some 
thing  to  be  determined  after  conference  with  Miss 
Lunata.  • 

That  Parsons  and  Miss  Lunata  were  both  in  great 
trouble  goes  without  saying.  Separated  as  they  were, 
and  with  no  means  as  yet  of  holding  any  intercourse 
either  verbal  or  written,  it  can  easily  be  imagined  that 
the  minds  of  both  were  most  earnestly  engaged  about 
the  same  things.  Each  was  trying  to  work  out  some 
plan  by  which  the  treasured  wishes  of  their  hearts 
could  be  consummated  and  still  danger  and  trouble  be 
averted. 

Reviewing  the  circumstances  which  had  lately  trans 
pired,  and  recapitulating  the  whole  of  what  had  been 
said  and  done  by  himself  or  Miss  Rowdon  within  the 
last  few  weeks,  Parsons  could  not  prevent  the  associa 
tion  of  Mr.  Rowdon's  recent  unfriendly  conduct  towards 
him,  with  the  report  which  came  to  him  through  Miss 
Watson,  concerning  the  suspicion  and  jealousy  which 
had  been  aroused  in  the  mind  of  Aurelius  Munson. 
He  necessarily  associated  this  information  with  the 
idea  that  Munson  had  either  directly  or  indirectly 
communicated  some  kind  of  information  to  Mr.  Row 
don  which  led  to  his  being  slighted  by  that  gentleman. 
He  remembered  that  the  prediction  of  Miss  Lunata,, 


BOO  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

when  Miss  Watson's  information  was  communicated 
to  her,  was  that  this  suspicion  boded  evil  for  herself 
and  probably  for  him  as  well.  He  knew  that  apart  of 
that  fear  had  been  verified  in  his  mistreatment,  and  as 
to  how  much  had  been  visited  upon  the  head  of  Miss 
Lunata  he  had  not  as  yet  ascertained. 

Parsons  was  in  trouble,  and  oh !  how  he  longed  to 
lay  those  troubles  before  Mis?  Lunata  and  in  mutual 
sympathy  find  comfort.  But  he  could  not  see  her  and 
in  sorrowing  sadness  he  asked — What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  XVI, 

"Dost  them  deem 

It  such  an  easy  task  from  the  fond  breast 
To  root  affections  out?" 

— Southey. 

Think'st  thou  that  I  could  bear  to  part 
From  thee.  and  learn  to  halve  my  heart'" 

— Byron. 

IX  the  midst  of  the  very  strange  state  of  affairs  by 
1  which  Parsons  found  himself  surrounded,  he  could 
but  feel  that  Fortune's  fickle  goddess  was  leading 
him  through  a  series  of  trials,  as  though  she  desired 
to  test  the  kind  of  material  of  which  he  was  made.. 
Never,  for  one  moment,  however,  did  he  harbor  the 
thought  that  any  extraneous  influence  or  any  coercive 
agency  could  be  possibly  brought  to  bear  which  would 
ultimately  succeed  in  blasting  the  hopes  that  a  plain, 
gold  ring,  worn  on  the  third  ringer  of  his  left  hand,  had, 
by  an  interpreted  symbolism v  plainly,  and  most 
emphatically  decreed  should  never  die.  Parsons  placed* 
uncompromising  belief  in  the  prophetic  declarations  of 
that  ring,  and  confidently  believed  its  symbolism  to  be 
talismanic.  But,  while  he  believed  all  this  to  be  true, 
he  could  not  close  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
confronted  by  new  and  very  serious  trouble — trouble 
born  of  the  opposition  which,  hue  had  discovered  Mr. 
Rowdon  would  offer  to  the  attentions  that  he  seemed 
disposed  to  give  to  has  daughter  Lunata.. 

It  appeared  that  Mr.  Rowdon  had  concluded  to 
adopt  the  plan  usually  pursued,  under  similar  circum 
stances,  by  objecting  parents.  It  was  this :  that  he 
would  handicap  any  growth  oi  mutual  admiration, 
between  his  daughter;  and  Prof.  Parsons — that  he  would 
kill  such  a  prospect  in  its  incipiency.  To,  accomplish. 


302  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

this,  he  sought,  through  an  act  of  half-hidden  mistreat 
ment,  to  erect  an  insuperable  bar  to  the  young  teacher's 
making  any  future,  or  further  visits  to  his  home.  To  this 
decree,  the  young  man,  against  whom  no  bill  of  griev 
ance  had  been  filed,  could  offer  no  remonstrance.  He 
knew  the  home  was  the  property  of  the  holder,  and  did 
not  feel  disposed  to  be  considered  a  tresspasser.  He 
recognized  that  Mr.  Rowdon  had  a  legal  right  to  object 
to  his  visiting  his  home,  but  he  neither  recognized  the 
legal. nor  moral  right  of  Mr.  Rowdon  object  to  his 
seeing  the  daughter,  nor  to  his  bestowing  attentions  upon 
her  away  from  home,  unless  for  reasons  that  would 
answer  the  demands  of  justice.  The  moral  right 
involved,  Parsons  regarded  as  a  question  which  would 
have  to  be  settled  by  a  higher  Tribunal  than  the  mind  of 
a  man  whose  devotions  were  only  paid  in  the  Court  of 
Dives.  He  believed  efforts  would  be  made,  and  plans 
put  in  motion  to  prevent  his  seeing  Miss  Lunata  ;  but, 
with  a  big  resolve,  weighed  in  the  scales  of  Justice,  he 
intended  to  see  her  nevertheless.  Xo  espionage  that 
the  father  could  invent,  he  resolved,  could  be  made  so 
complete  as  that  it  would  not  be  defeated. 

It  so  happened  that  a  social  gathering  was  to  be 
held  at  the  home  of  one  of  Prof.  Parsons'  patrons  a 
short  time  subsequent  to  his  mishap  at  farmer  Row- 
don's,  and,  of  course,  the  young  Professor  was  invited. 
Being  satisfied  that  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  would  recieve 
an  invitation,  he  clandestinely  communicated  to  her 
his  intention  of  attending  the  social,  and  insisted  upon 
her  making  one  of  the  guests  if  possible,  as  there  were 
several  important  matters,  about  which  he  wished  to 
consult  her,  and  indicated  that  the  things,  about 
which  he  wished  to  confer  with  her,  were  of  such  a 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  303 

character  as  that  they  had  given  him  considerable 
trouble.  To  this  Miss  Lunata  replied,  that,  unless 
something  more  potent  as  a  restrainer  than  she  then 
believed  would  present  itself,  she  would  be  sure  to 
be  present,  and  would  be  made  happy  by  the  oppor 
tunity  of  meeting  him. 

When  the  evening  for  the  assemblage  arrived,  Par 
sons  was  among  those  in  attendance.  He  found  nearly 
all  of  the  expected  guests  were  present,  and  was  more 
than  delighted  to  see  that  Miss  Rowdon  was  among 
them.  After  saluting  first  one,  and  then  another  of 
those  present,  with  his  characteristic  grace — bestowing 
a  compliment  here,  and  having  something  pleasant  to 
say  there,  he  at  length  approached  Miss  Rowdon  with 
an  air  of  assumed  indifference,  but,  taking  her  hand  in 
his,  he  gave  it  a  pressure  which  she  understood.  It 
was  not  the  touch  of  indifference,  and  he  said  to  her, 
sotto  race,  "by  and  by,  I  will  explain."  So  saying  he 
walked  across  the  room,  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  a  group  of  his  young  acquaintances. 

The  "by  and  by,"  about  which  Parsons  had  whis 
pered  he  would  explain,  was  not  long  postponed. 
Having  waited  a  sufficient  length  of  time,  to  prevent 
what  he  did  from  attracting  especial  attention,  he 
again  approached  Miss  Lunata,  and  gave  her  to  under 
stand  that  he  wanted  a  colloquy  with  her,  and  desired 
it  should  be  as  private  as  practicable.  Upon  this 
announcement  the  two  walked  of?  together  to  an 
adjacent  hallway.  Parsons  introduced  the  conversation 
by  describing  minutely  the  incidents  of  the  day  on 
which  he  was  last  at  her  father's,  and,  after  doing  so, 
inquired  of  her,  if  she  knew  of  any  reason  which 
could  be  assigned  for  her  father's  strange  conduct  on 
hat  day. 


304  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

A  read}-  response  was  made  to  this  question  by  Miss 
Rowdon.  She  told  Prof.  Parsons  that  some  one  had 
gone  to  her  father  with  the  information  that  frequent 
visits,  with  serious  intentions,  were  being  made  to  her 
by  him,  and  that  if  he  wished  to  forestall  any  evil 
results  from  their  association,  he  would  display  ordinary 
wisdom  not  to  defer  putting  in  his  demurrer  too  long — 
that  there  was  evidently  a  growing  fondness  with  both 
of  them  for  each  other's  society — that  delay  would  be 
dangerous,  unless  he  was  willing  to  resign  his  daughter 
to  the  protecting  care  of  a  certain  young  teacher.  She 
was  candid  enough  to  say  to  him  that  she  believed  the 
information  her  father  had  received,  if  not  directly 
conveyed  to  him  by  Aurelius  Munson,  had  been  indi 
rectly  given  him  from  that  source.  She  further  said,, 
that,  as  to  the  reason  for  her  father's  objections  to  his 
visiting  her,  she  was  at  loss  to  offer  an  explantion,  but 
that  he  seemed  to  have  long  entertained  and  cherished 
the  idea  that  her  affections  were,  at  the  proper  time, 
to  be  transferred  to  Aurelius  Munson  as  their  legitimate 
custodian.  She  said,  furthermore,  that  if  there  was 
any  discoverable  danger  of  her  being  kidnapped  on  the 
day  mentioned,  she  was  free  to  confess  she  did  not  dis 
cover  it. 

In  regard  to  the  mistreatment  which  her  father  hadi 
shown  the  Professor,  and  over  which  he  appeared  to  be 
so  deeply  chagrined,  Miss  Lunata  spoke  very  feel 
ingly.  She  told  him  that  with  infinite  mortification, 
she  had  been  made  the  witness  of  her  father's  impolite 
conduct  towards  him,  and  that  the  moment  he  turned 
his  face  from  the  doorr  she  could  scarcely  restrain 
herself  from  flying  after  him,  and  begging  him  that  he 
would  not  consider  her  as  condoning  the  offense,  or 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  305 

looking  upon  such  unkindness  with  any  other  than  a 
feeling  of  contempt.  She  assured  him  that  his 
unjustifiable  mistreatment,  so  nobly  endured,  so 
manfully  ignored,  so  silently  rebuked,  had  drawn  the 
cords  of  her  attachment  for  him  more  closely  about  her 
sympathizing  heart.  Such  unwarranted  conduct  as  that 
to  which  he  had  been  exposed,  instead  of  shaking  her 
admiration  for  him,  would  be  like  the  tree  when  shaken 
by  the  wind — the  disturbance  would  only  give  greater 
power  to  its  living. 

"By  that  act,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  ''the  light 
was  turned  on,  and  it  was  no  longer  a  matter  of 
surmise,  as  to  what  kind  of  opposition  would  be  offered 
to  my  association  with  you,  as  a  new-made  friend. 
Antagonism,  stubborn  and  uncompromising,  would 
have  to  be  encountered,  I  knew.  The  fact  that  no 
sooner  had  my  guests  all  gone,  on  that  Sunday  after 
noon,  than  did  my  father  flash  up,  in  wrathful  ire  in  my 
presence,  which  was  proof  that  the  storm  was  on.  He 
not  only  applied  some  very  vindictive  epithets  to 
you,  but  peremptorily  ordered  me  to  break  off  all 
further  associations  with  you.  Nay  more ;  to  even 
discountenance  you.  Had  my  father  known,  Mr. 
Parsons,  how  rebellious  my  nature  would  grow,  under 
such  a  cruel,  unjust  and  unwarranted  mandate,  he 
would  have  discovered  how  very  futile  his  order  would 
prove  to  be — he  would  have  readily  perceived  that  an 
obedient  girl,  in  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life,  could 
readily  manifest  open  revolt  and  daring  insubordina 
tion,  when  it  came  to  an  attempt  to  play  the  tyrant 
over  her  affections." 

She  reminded  Prof.  Parsons,  that,  what  she  then 

WHAT  NEXT?— 20. 


306  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

said,  was  that  he  might  form  some  idea  of  the  amount 
of  her  discomfiture  at  seeing  him  misused  without 
even  being  cognizant  of  the  character  or  sum  of  his 
offense.  She  told  him  that  she  was  sadly  defeated,  on 
the  Sunday  alluded  to,  because  she  had  brought  him 
as  her  escort  home  from  church,  on  that  day,  and  had, 
unwittingly  it  was  true,  led  him  into  a  position  where 
he  had  been  mistreated — humiliated.  She  declared, 
that  although  defeated  in  this  instance,  she  intended 
to  show  him  that  she  could  rise  superior  to  such  treat 
ment.  With  a  cause  which  was  just  and  a  purpose 
born  of  honesty,  she  told  Parsons  she  intended  to 
demonstrate  the  fact  that  a  plucky  girl  could  defy 
coercion,  and  throw  her  determination,  if  need  be,  in 
the  face  of  prejudiced  paternal  authority.  Her  father 
she  stated  had  been  kind  to  her,  but  his  hitherto 
uniform  kindness  might  be  wholly  nullified  by  the 
revolting  sacrifice  which  he  intimated  he  would  demand 
of  her,  in  giving  up  her  friends  and  essaying  to  decide 
upon  whom  she  should  bestow  her  affections.  0  !  cruel, 
cruel  fate — a  fate  that  had  presented  her  with  the  dire 
alternative  of  filial  disobedience  or  disloyalty  to  the 
only  man  she  would  ever  consent  to  wed ! 

Such  declarations,  accompanied  by  the  spirit  in 
which  they  were  delivered,  came  well  nigh  overpower 
ing  Prof.  Parsons,  and  so  far  paralyzing  his  tongue,  as 
to  render  him  incapable  of  making  any  reply.  How 
ever,  as  soon  as  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  his 
equilebrim,  he  said  to  Miss  Rowdon : 

"There  is  one  thing,  My  Dearest  Lunata,  which  gives 
me  no  small  amount  of  anxiety." 

"And  what  is  that,  Professor  ?"  said  she. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  307 

"  Our  meetings,  if  known  to  your  father,"  quoth 
Parsons,  "must  bring  trouble  upon  you ;  and  while  it 
would  be  a  source  of  inexpressible  grief  to  be  barred 
from  the  delight  of  your  company.  I  could  not  be 
sufficiently  selfish  to  enjoy  that  delight'at  the  sacrifice 
of  your  peace." 

''You  need  not  now  talk  of  peace,  Prof.  Parsons. 
The  alarm  has  been  sounded,  and  sentinels  will  be  em 
ployed  to  dog  your  footsteps  and  watch  mine,  go  where 
we  may.  Shrewdness  and  cunning  must  therefore  be 
brought  into  play,  that  these  watch-dogs  may  be  thrown 
off  the  trail,  as  often  and  as  completely  as  possible." 

"Do  you  not  think  that,  between  us,  a  compromise 
might  be  affected  with  your  father,  Miss  Lunata  ?" 
said  Parsons. 

"  Ity  no  means,"  answered  Miss  Lunata.  "Father 
has  an  unconquerable  will,  and  when  that  will  is 
antagonized,  he  only  plants  himself  the  more  resolutely 
in  his  determination." 

"There  must  be  a  great  mistake  somewhere,"  said 
the  Professor.  "He  must  certainly  have  had  presented 
to  him  a  false  representation  of  rny  general  character. 
When  he  shall  have  learned  what  that  is,  and  what  it 
has  always  been  ;  when  he  shall  have  learned  that  my 
life  has  had  no  spot  upon  the  escutcheon  of  its  history 
from  childhood  till  now  ;  when  he  shall  have  acquaint 
ed  himself  with  the  fact  that  my  reputation  for  honesty 
and  integrity  is  unsullied ;  think  you  he  will  not  relent, 
and  allow  us  the  privileges  that  are  accorded  to  young 
people  generally  ? 

"No  indeed,  Prof.  Parsons;  neither  a  reputation  for  up 
right  conduct,  nor  any  reason  that  you  should  possibly 
assign  would  cause  him  to  altar  his  purpose.  Besides, 


308  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

if  you  were  to  approach  him  with  a  view  of  arguing 
your  claims  to  be  treated  with  gentlemanly  politeness, 
his  abruptly  insulting  you  would  be  the  reward  of  your 
effort." 

"But  if  he  i  thinks  that  I  have  done  anything  to 
forfeit  his  friendship,  Miss  Lunata,  do  you  think  he 
would  deny  me  the  privilege  of  an  explanation  ?" 

"I  do,  Professor.  The  sum  of  your  offending  has 
been  your  attachment  to  me  ;  and,  as  he  supposes,  the 
consequent  jostling  of  Mr.  Munson  Jin  his  position  of 
fancied  security  as  a  claimant  for  my  hand.  You 
could  not,  I  am  sure,  deny  the  attachment  between 
us.  To  acknowledge  it  would  incense  him  the  more, 
and  probably  defeat  plans  which  otherwise  may  be  per 
fected." 

"Well,  if  I  can  not  approach  him  to  seek  an  adjust 
ment  through  explanation,  think  you  he  would  be 
sufficiently  unjust,  even  granting  that  my  love  for  you 
has  excited  his  prejudice  against  me,  to  deny  me  the 
opportunity,  within  a  reasonable  time,  to  reinstate 
myself  in  his  opinion." 

"I  most  sincerely  hope,  Prof.  Parsons,  that  the 
time  may  come  when  my  father  will  have  discovered 
that  he  made  a  grievous  mistake  in  treating  you  as  he 
did.  That  time,  I  confidently  believe,  will  come.  We 
must  bide  its  coming.  To  attempt  to  reconcile  him  to 
the  conditions  that  exist  now,  between  you  and  me, 
would  be  futile,  and  therefore,  such  a  thought  must  be 
banished.  Your  whole-souled,  and  unsuspecting  mag 
nanimity  gives  rise  to  your  wishes.  I  think  I  can  appre 
ciate  the  source'  from  which  it  all  springs.  But, 
my  dearest  friend,  the  lavishing  of  your  petitions 
upon  my  father,  [  under  the  present  circumstances, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  309 

would  only  call  down  the  maledictions  of  him  whose 
good-will  you  sought  to  obtain.  I  know  my  father. 
In  many  respects  he  is  a  good  man,  but.  when  his 
prejudices  are  aroused,  they  exhibit  the  worst  part  of 
his  nature,  and  are  so  deeply  rooted  .that  any  ordinary 
effort  for  their  removal  would  leave  them  unshaken." 

"What  then  are  we  to  do?  my  dearest  Lunata.  With 
our  vows  of  eternal  fidelity,  our  declarations  of 
unconquerable  and  imperishable  affection  for  each 
other,  what  must  be  done  ?  Must  the  sacred  vows  that 
we  have  made  be  erased  from  the  tablets  of  our  hearts? 
Must  these  tablets,  with  the  inscription  still  clinging 
thereto,  be  left  as  desperate  wrecks?  God  forbid  !  Ay! 
and  aye!  let  us  hold  on,  with  the  tenacity  which 
marks  our  grip  upon  life,  to  what  we  have.  Bolstering 
our  hopefulness  with  new  resolves,  let  us  wait  with 
patience  and  watch  for  the  coming  of  a  better  day." 

"I  am  very  glad,  Prof.  Parsons,  to  find  you  so  little 
disposed  to  grow  discouraged  over  the  troubles  which 
we  are  now  facing — so  little  inclined  to  look  upon  the 
dark  side  of  the  history  which  we  are  now  making  for 
ourselves.  I  say  that  I  am  glad  that  this  is  true;  for, 
oh  !  my  heart  seems  to  bleed,  as  under  a  complication 
of  distresses.  I  can  see  no  way  for  our  escape  from 
impending  trouble — no  promised  relief  from  a  bitter 
and  vindicative  persecution  by  Munson,  nor  any  refuge 
from  the  wrathful  dissatisfaction  of  my  father.  Indeed, 
but  for  the  fact  that  I  have  you  for  a  counselor,  upon 
whom  I  can  depend  for  aid  in  piloting  me  through  the 
difficult,  dreary  and  dark  way,  I  would  sink  down  in 
hopeless  despair.  You  are  the  one  to  whom  I  must 
look  for  comfort.  You  must  not  therefore  talk  about  it3 
being  selfish  to  seek  my  company,  for  fear  you  might 


310  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

bring  me  into  deeper  trouble.  Counsel,  advice  and  com 
forting  encouragement  is  what  I  need.  I  really  crave  a 
companionship,  such  as  I]  can  find  nowhere,  as  I  can 
with  you.  Withold  not  then  from  me,  my  dearest 
friend,  this  boon.  Of  course,  I  dare  not  suggest  that 
you  visit  me  at  my  home.  To  undertake  to  meet  me 
there,  I  am  sure,  would  be  perilous  to  us  both, and  I  could 
not  get  my  consent  to  advise  anything  that  would 
subject  you  to  another  insult.  But  can  we  not  find 
some  way,  or  devise  some  plan  by  which  to  thwart 
the  cruelty  that  seeks  to  keep  us  apart?" 

"Your  trouble  is  the  source  of  my  present  anxiety, 
my  dearest  Lunata.  Cheer  up  then  ;  both  for  my  sake 
and  your  own.  Our  surroundings  can  not,  I  am  sure, 
remain  long  as  they  are.  The  future,  seems 
now  to  be  unpromising,  It  looks  dreary,  gloomy  and 
dark.  But  remember,  that  over  the  blue  of  yonder  sky 
there  never  stretched  a  cloud  so  far  away,  that, 
beyond  it,  there  was  not  sunshine.  Even  now,  I  think 
I  can,  by  the  light  of  a  kind  of  prophetic  vision,  see 
glimmering  brightness  in  the  far  away.  Take  cour 
age,  dearest,  I  think  the  lowering  clouds  that  now 
envelop  us,  in  the  darkness  of  uncertainty,  must  soon 
pass  away.  Let  us,  nevertheless,  practice  prudence. 
Let  us  not  be  beguiled  by  the  incadescent  glow  of  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  that  may  be  hung  out  as  a  decoy  to 
lead  us,  while  filing  from  present  troubles,  into  newer 
and  severer  afflctions.  Traps  will  be  set,  as  you  have 
already  intimated,  into  which  it  is  hoped,  we  may  be  al 
lured.  Plans  will  be  devised  to  discover  our  purposes,  in 
regard  to  our  future  course.  Let  some  one  else  spring 
the  triggers  to  these  traps.  If  they  must  be  sprung,  I 
will  secure  the  aid  of  some  one,  to  watch  the  dead-falls, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  311 

and  when  they  are  set,  to  knock  the  triggers  down  and 
leave  no  tracks." 

"You  are  unused,"  said  Parsons,  "as  well  as  myself, 
to  battling  with  such  difficulties  and  troubles  as  at 
present  surround  us,  and  I  am  half  atraid  to  make  a 
suggestion,  last  in  doing  so,  you  may  be  induced  to 
make  a  move  that  may  lead  to  the  pressing  of  a  bit 
terer  cup  of  sorrow  to  your  lips." 

''Be  not  afraid,  Prof.  Parsons,  to  make  any  sugges 
tion  you  may  feel  disposed  to  offer.  Your  anxiety  for 
my  welfare,  I  regard  as  an  earnest  of  the  protection 
you  would  fain  offer  me.  Should  you  therefore,  in 
mistaken  kindness,  cause  me  to  drink  a  bitterer  potion 
of  sorrow  than  has  been  yet  placed  to  my  lips,  I  will 
drink  to  the  dregs  and  never  lift  one  complaint  against 
you.  I  will  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  the  cup  which  held  the  draught  was  intended  for 
good,  but  was  poisoned  by  the  cruel  wrong  of  some 
one  else." 

"I  have  always  thought,"  said  Prof.  Parsons,  "that, 
under  no  kind  of  circumstances,  could  I  be  induced  to 
commit  a  theft.  Thievery  is  a  violation  of  an  item  in 
the  Decalogue,  and  therefore  considered  an  act  of  moral 
obliquity  since  the  days  of  Sinai's  legislation.  But, 
conning  this  question  in  my  mind,  I  have  been  led  to 
ask  whether  a  certain  kind  of  larceny  was  a  more  heinous 
offense  than  the  offering  of  a  human  sacrifice  upon  the 
altar  of  Mammon.  If  the  latter  be  an  act  of  greater 
turpitude  than  the  former,  then  I  become  a  pleader,  in 
justification  of  coming  to  the  relief  of  the  sacrifice  and 
snatching  it,  by  theft,  if  necessary,  from  a  cruel  immo 
lation.  Should  I  become  the  rescuer,  would  the  act 
be  justifiable  ?  This  is  a  question  to  settle.  Would 


312  WHAT  NEXT?   OR 

such  an  act  shadow  my  reputation  for  integrity  ?  What 
would  the  world  say  ?  Would  critics  assert  that  there 
was  in  my  act  a  self-acknowedgement  of  my  incapacity 
to  rescue  the  sacrifice  without  pilfering  it  in  the  dark. 
Pride  comes  well  nigh  lifting  itself  in  open  revolt  just 
here.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  I  am  unworthy, 
and  hence  shrink  from  the  thought  of  leading  in  such 
a  rescue,  my  dear  Lunata.  I  think  I  was  raised  right 
— I  have  tried  to  live  right — I  have  labored  to  build  a 
reputation  that  was  in  every  way  right ;  and,  to  find 
myself  driven  into  the  defile  where  I  am  standing 
to-day,  is  putting  me  to  the  proof  as  to  whether  my 
fidelity,  to  old  opinions  and  old  resolves,  should  out 
weigh  my  loyalty  to  truth  in  the  awards  of  constant 
love  and  fealty  which  I  have  so  often  made  to  you.  It 
did  not  take  any  large  amount  of  debating  the  question 
with  myself,  as  to  what  I  should  do." 

"As  I  view  the  matter  now;  having  given  it  much 
serious  thought,  there  is  but  one  avenue  of  escape  left 
to  us — one  last  alternative.  Hope  plants  itself  in  this 
avenue  and  says  :  Fly  !  Yes,  fly  from  the  cruel  exaction 
of  a  prejudiced  father — fly  from  the  unrelenting  bitter 
ness  with  which  he  looks  upon  my  partiality  for  you. 
Yes,  fly !  and  in  the  defiant  establishment  of  an 
inseperable  unity  resolve  to  forget  present  troubles. 
What  think  you  of  my  suggestion?  It  is  almost 
as  new  to  me  as  it  is  to  you.  At  any  rate,  is  it  not 
worthy  of  our  consideration  ?  As  already  said,  such  a 
course  would  levy  a  severe  tax  upon  my  pride,  and 
before  the  criticisim  of  the  public  that  pride  might  be 
disposed  to  cower.  But  public  opinion  is  not  always 
right  in  its  judgment,  and  believing  that  a  vindication 
of  our  course  would  be  established  when  the  public 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  313 

came  to  know  the  true  inwardness  of  the  whole  matter 
I  can  but  feel,  my  dear  Lunata,  that  the  reversal  of  the 
people's  verdict,  even  prospectively,  would  palliate,  at 
least  measurably,  the  humiliation  I  would  feel  in 
committing  an  act  which  I  could  not  expect  to  be 
generally  approved.  I  believe  I  could  satisfy  the 
qualms  of  my  own  conscience  that,  although  the 
expression  might  seem  to  be  a  paradox,  it  was  never 
theless  strictly  true  that  I  was  an 

AN  HONEST  THIEF, 

and  that  I  could  ask  the  benediction  of  Heaven  to 
rest  upon  the  result.  It  must  be  this,  my  dear,"  said 
Parsons,  "or  there  can  but  be  an  untying  of  heart 
strings  from  about  anticipated  joys,  promised  pleasures, 
and  expected  delights.  Such  an  issue  as  this,  amid 
broken  vows,  would  leave  two  hearts  too  sore  to  have 
the  wounds  cured,  except  in  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the 
grave.  I  cannot  contemplate  such  a  result  without 
having  a  feeling  of  awe  pervade  my  whole  being. 
Better  does  it  seem  it  would  be  for  me,  that  I  should 
be  submerged  in  the  waters  of  Lethe  and  pass  into  a 
.state  of  unbroken  oblivion,  than  to  live  and  lose  thee." 
"Why  talk  thus  so  despondingly,  Prof.  Parsons? 
You  well  know  that  I  have  come  to  regard  you  as  a 
true,  noble,  and  self-sacrificing  part  of  myself,  and 
knowing  this,  I  do  not  want  to  hear  you  intimate  any 
thing  about  a  seperation  this  side  of  the  turbid  stream 
where  lovers  must  speak  their  last  good-byes.  How, 
pray  tell  me,  can  the  unity  of  the  two  in  one,  and  the 
one  in  two,  about  which  I  have  heard  you  philoso 
phise — the  unity  which  has  been  ratified  by  all  the 
sanctity  that  could  be  couched  in  words,  be  torn 
asunder  ?  Whose  hands  with  impious  cruelty  shall  be 


314  WHAT  NEXT?   OR 

first  lifted  to  strike  the  fatal  blow?  Whose  voice  shall 
first  be  heard  calling  down  the  righteous  indignation  of 
Heaven,  in  attestation  of  its  having  been  a  witness 
to  what  had  proven  to  be  a  falsehood?  Not  mine, 
dearest ;  no,  no ;  and  I  would  as  soon  believe  that  you 
were  ready  to  imbue  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  the 
heart  that  now  beats  wildly  in  sympathy  for  you,  as  to- 
believe  you  capable  of  proving  false  to  yourself — false 
to  your  promises,  or  insincere  in  your  vows.  Somewhere, 
dearest,  on  the  broad-breasted  earth  ;  somewhere  under 
the  star-lighted  azure  above  us  ;  somewhere  under  the 
sun-brightened  heavens,  there  must  be  a  home  for  you 
and  me — a  home  where  peace  and  safety  from  this 
consuming  uncertainty  will  prove  a  panacea  for  present 
ills.  Ay  !  it  must  be  so,  and  let  it  be  where  it  may, 
under  your  lead  I  will  followr." 

"0,  that  I  had  the  pen  of  a  poet,  fresh  from  amid 
the  dews  of  Parnassus,  that  I  might  indite  an  ode  to 
constancy  and  dedicate  it  to  you  !  Excited  beauty,  if 
devotional  attachment  be  the  parent  of  this  excitement, 
it  appears  to  advantage,  and  your  outburst  of  pathetic 
tenderness  has  filled  my  soul  to  the  full.  If  it  were 
possible  that  my  admiration  for  you  could  be  height 
ened,  I  am  sure  that  admiration  must  have  climbed  to 
its  zenith  while  listening  to  the  sublime  declarations  of 
loyalty  to  your  pledges  that  have  just  fallen  from  your 
lips.  0,  that  I  had  some  dialect  in  which  I  might  rise 
to  the  emergency  of  this  occasion  !  0,  that  I  could 
word  my  emotions !" 

"Neither  are  needed,"  said  Miss  Lunata ;  your 
features  are  indices  to  your  emotions.  Those  tell-tale 
eyes  of  yours  can  sometimes  express  more  than  your 
tongue  could,  even  if  you  were  a  regular  polyglot.  It 


THE  HONEST  THIEF 

would  never  do  for  you  to  undertake  to  play  the  knave, 
for  any  good  detective  could  read  guilt  in  every  linea 
ment  of  your  face." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,  for  your  compliment,  for 
such  it  surely  is.  I  would  really  like  to  consider  the 
subject  to  which  your  last  remarks  lead,  but  as  time  is 
passing,  and  my  remaining  with  you  much  longer  might 
create  suspicion,  I  had  better  say  something  now  about 
the  when,  the  where,  and  the  how,  which  are  involved 
in  the  consummation  of  our  cherished  plans.  These 
must  be  the  subjects  of  our  study  for  some  weeks  to 
come,  and  we  had  better  try  to  mature  these  lessons  at 
as  early  a  period  as  possible.  In  the  meantime,  alert 
ness  and  circumspection  must  be  our  watch-words. 
There  are  eyes  that  look  with  approbation  upon  my 
fondness  for  your  society  ;  and  from  them  we  would 
have  nothing  to  fear.  But  there  are  others  whose 
gangrened  jealousy  would  lead  them  to  inflict  an 
injury  upon  the  object  they  pretended  to  admire,  or 
load  with  trouble  the  party  whom  they  once  claimed 
to  be  an  especial  friend.  My  advice  to  you  would  be 
that  you  shun  the  society  of  all  those  who  would  seek 
to  injure  you  by  playing  the  part  of  a  spy — reporting 
what  had  been  seen,  and  filling  in  with  guess-work. 

Purity  gains  nothing  by  contact  with  dishonesty,  and 
the  sooner  you  sever  your  association  with  prying  eyes 
and  mischievous  tongues,  the  better  you  will  fare, 
especially  in  the  handling  of  matters  of  vital  importance 
to  you  and  me." 

Moving  along  the  hall-way,  so  as  to  be  brought 
before  the  door  which  was  the  entrance  to  the  room  in 
which  most  of  the  guests  were  assembled,  and,  taking 
a  look  as  he  passed,  Prof.  Parsons  remarked  to  Miss. 


316  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

'Lunata,  that  lie  was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
all  the  guests,  to  say  whether  there  were  any  envious 
eyes  among  those  present  or  not;  and,  lest  there  should 

'be,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  disarm  the  suspicions  of 
any  present  who  might  happen  to  be  troubled  with 
that  malady,  and  he  so  told  Miss  Lunata,  and  further 
said,  that  he  thought  it  would  be  prudent  and  politic 

•that  he  should  show  her  no  further  attention  during  the 
evening.  This,  he  told  her,  was  a  sacrifice,  but  sug 
gested  that,  if  a  proper  opportunity  presented  itself,  he 
would  do  himself  the  pleasure  of  having  some  further 
interview  with  her.  He  whispered  to  her  also,  that,  at 
any  rate,  when  the  company  began  to  disperse,  he 
would  try  and  find  an  opportunity  of  bidding  her  a 
more  affectionate  good  night.  He  promised  to  keep 

"her  informed  by  letter,  in  regard   to  everything  that 

came  to  his  notice,  that  he  thought  she  ought  to  know. 

With  this  speech  ended,  he  led  Miss  Lunata  to  a 

•.company  of  lively  young  people  who  were  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  the  evening  pleasures,  and  then  turned 

.Hmself  to  the  entertainment  of  some  other  young  ladies 
who  were  in  a  different  part  of  the  room.  For  the 
remainder  of  the  evening,  hie  attention  was  in  no  way 
directed  to  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon. 

A  group  of  girls  standing  by  themselves  in  one  corner 

'of  the  room,  were  having  a  splendid  time  in  a  lively 
chat  with  each  other,  at  the  time  Parsons  and  Miss 
Lunata  returned  from  the  hall,  and  an  observant  pair 
of  eyes  in  this  group  noticed,  that  having  left  Miss 
Lunata  in  the  company  of  her  friends,  he  gave  her 
no  further  attention.  This  gave  rise  to  some  speculation 
among  these  girls,  when  a  listener  overheard  the  fol- 

"lowing  colloquy  among  them  : 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  317" 

Miss  Mary  Snow  dared  to  intimate  that  she  thought: 
Parsons  and  Miss  Rowdon!  had'  ended  their  rather  pro 
tracted  conversation  in  a  lover's  quarrel'. 

Miss  Lizzie  Ball  wanted  to  know  how  two  young 
people  could  have  a  lovers  quarrel  without  their  being 
lovers. 

Miss    Snow  replied    by  asking    if  there    was  not  a. 
suspicion  afloat  that  Prof.  Parsons  was  thinking  about 
as  much  of  Miss  Lunata  as  the  Henry  Rowdon  law 
would  allow  ? 

Miss  Dora  Duke  remarked  that  if  Parsons  was 
really  in  love  with  Lunata,  he  had  her  sympathy,  and 
deserved  pity.  What  has  Aurelius  Munson  been  doing 
all  this  time  ?  That  post  to  which  he  has  so  regularly 
hitched  his  horse  would  grow  lonesome  if  the  young 
teacher  were  to  capture  his  bird." 

'"Good!"    said  Miss  Combs,  laughingly.    "Both  of 
them  are  my  especial  friends.     Parsons,  I  regard  as  a 
catch,  and  Lunata  is  a  jewel.     I  wish  they  could  make 
a  match." 

"What  would  become  of  Munson?"  said  Miss  Snow. 
"Would  you  have  his  prospects  knocked  into  pi,  as  the- 
printers  say?" 

"0  bosh  on  his  prospects,"  said  Miss  Ball.  "He's 
an  old  fogy — out  of  date — a  back  number.  Miss  Lunatai 
hasn't  the  remotest  idea  of  marrying  him." 

"Do  you  really  think,  girls,"  said  Miss  Combs,  "that. 
Prof.  Parsons  is  waiting  upon  Lunata  with  serious 
intentions,  ?  It  is  said  that  the  course  of  true  love- 
is  not  a  [voyage  over  an  untroubled  sea,  but  if  the,- 
Professor  |is  really  in  earnest,  and  if  they  have  had  a 
little  lover's  quarrel,  I  hope  the  breakers  have  not 
been  heavy  enough  to  upset  their-  craft — that  peace-, 
may  be  established  and  their  boat  land  in  safety. 


'318  WHAT   NEXT?   OR 

"  Land  where  did  you  say?"  said  Miss  Duke. 

"  Land  in  the  port  of  matrimony,  of  course,"  said 
Miss  Combs.  "  If  they  have  a  boat  freighted  with  love, 
where  else  do  you  suppose  the  craft  has  passports  for?" 

"I  can  hardly  guess,"  said  Miss  Duke,  "but  from 
the  looks  of  the  Captain,  as  he  hove  to,  and  landed 
his  partner  in  this  room  a  few  minutes  ago,  it  looked  to 
me  very  much  like  the  prow  of  his  vessel  was  turned 
In  the  opposite  direction  from  lover's  landing." 

At  this  speech  all  broke  forth  in  merry  laughter  except 
Miss  Duke,  who  put  on  a  look  somewhat  demure,  and 
asked  if  she  had  said  anything  wrong.  "0,  no,  no  !" 
answered  a  number  of  her  companions  in  chorus.  "It 
was  only  your  quaint  way  of  putting  the  matter," 
replied  Miss  Snow,  "that  excited  the  merriment.  You 
are  all  right,  Duke." 

"  I  thought  I  was,"  said  Miss  Duke.  "  But  what 
difference  does  it  make  anyway?  If  Lunata's  father 
thought  that  she  had  engaged  passage  for  a  life-voyage 
with  that  young  teacher  as  the  pilot  of  the  vessel  she 
was  to  sail  in,  and  was  to  embark  for  that  long  trip, 
My  !  0,  my  !  wouldn't  he  cut  up  Jacks  !  Wouldn't  he 
hire  some  one  to  follow  them  in  a  life-boat,  with  orders 
to  scuttle  the  craft — drown  the  pilot,  but  rescue  the 
daughter !  I  know  him.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon  thinks  poetry  and  poverty  are  twins — that 
fashion  and  folly  belong  to  the  same  family,  and  that 
a  man  who  has  not  more  money  than  he  inherited,  is 
not  worth  the  wrapping  paper  in  which  was  brought 
home  the  last  purchase  which  any  one  of  the  family 
may  have  made." 

"I  understand,"  said  Miss  Snow,  "that  Mr.  Rowdon 
is  wealthy — probably  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the 
county." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  319 

"Ay!  ay!  there's  where  the  trouble  comes  in," 
said  Miss  Snow.  "  Mr.  Rowdon  makes  devotional 
offerings  upon  no  other  altar  than  that  where  Plutus  is 
the  priest.  He  seems  to  have  forgotten  the  fact  that 
lucre  must  perish.  He  began  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ladder,  I  understand,  so  far  as  worldly  possessions  are 
concerned,  and  his  pride  has  kept  pace  with  his  grow 
ing  prosperity.  He  therefore  wants  his  daughter  to 
marry  a  man  with  means.  He  has  no  appreciation 
whatever  of  the  beautiful,  the  true  and  the  good,  as 
mental  qualifications,  only  so  far  as  these  qualities  are 
auxiliaries  in  lending  to  an  increase  of  riches  already 
in  hand.  He  knows  that  special  mental  ornamenta 
tion  can  be  bought  neither  by  weight  nor  measure  and 
cannot  therefore  yield  any  ready  money.  Young  Prof. 
Parsons,  as  I  understand,  although  he  has  every  endow 
ment  necessary  to  enable  him,  not  only  to  gain  a  living 
but  to  make  his  mark  in  the  world,  has  nevertheless 
not  the  kind  of  riches  which  can  purchase  the  favor  of 
Lunata's  father.  This  being  true  it  were  better,  in  the 
event  that  they  have  had  a  lover's  quarrel,  as  has  been 
intimated,  that  their  quarrel  remain  unsettled.  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  is  a  most  excellent  young  lady,  and 
he  who  wins  her  hand  will  win  a  jewel.  She  is 
especially  sprightly,  and  the  scintillations  of  her  intel 
lectual  brightness  would  shed  lustre  upon  any  home. 
She  has  the  glow  of  a  heart-kindness  and  the  generous 
impulses  of  a  noble  nature,  and  these,  together  with 
her  superior  personal  beauty,  would  make  him  who 
wins  her  the  owner  of  a  coronet  set  off  with  gems  of 
rare  worth  and  incalculable  value." 

With  this  perioration,  Miss  Duke  remarked  that 
the  company  was  dispersing,  and  at  once  they  too 


320  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

donned  their  wraps,  and  the  house  in  which  there  had 
been  so  much  merriment  was  occupied  only  by  the 
family. 

As  the  party  passed  out,  one  by  one,  Parsons  met 
Miss  Lunata  as  she  emerged  from  the  door — gave  her 
hand  the  earnest  pressure  of  more  than  friendship,  and 
while  doing  so  whispered  something  in  her  ear  which 
none  but  he  and  she  ever  heard. 

With  this  parting  Parsons  started  home,  ?nd  as  he 
went,  amid  the  thousand  questions  which  were  sug. 
gested  but  unanswered,  the  last  was — What  Next? 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"Such  Is  the  use  and  noble  end  of  friendship, 

To  bear  a  part  in  every  storm  of  fate, 

And,  by  dividing,  make  the  lighter  weight." 

— Higgons. 

"HERE  was  a  young  Mr.  Lasell,  who  was  boarding 
in  the  neighborhood  and  attending  the  school 
which  Parsons  was  teaching.  He  had  become 
very  much  attached  to  the  young  Professor — ad 
miring  him  as  a  man,  and  appreciating  him  as  a 
teacher.  Parsons' was  never  slow  in  determining  the 
estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  every  pupil  under 
his  charge.  He  therefore  felt  secure  in  approaching 
young  Lasell,  and,  without  any  preliminaries,  told 
him  he  wanted  to  use  him  as  a  friend.  Parsons  gave 
him  an  assurance  that  he  would  not  be  permitted  to 
compromise  himself,  and  told  him  that  he  would  feel  safe 
in  delegating  to  him  so  important  a  trust.  He  told  Lasell 
that  he  wanted  to  open  a  clandestine  correspondence  with 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  and  that  he  desired  his  aid  in 
the  execution  of  that  purpose.  "Her  father,"  said 
Parsons,  "has  resolutely  put  himself  in  opposition  to 
my  having  the  privilege  of  visiting  the  young  lady,  or 
in  any  way  enjoying  the  liberty  of  social  intercourse 
with  her.  He  has,  by  a  very  singular  proceedure,  which 
I  need  not  now  explain,  barred  me  from  visiting  her  in 
his  home,  and,  I  am  convinced,  will  put  his  wits  to  work 
in  trying  to  prevent  me  from  having  any  communi 
cation  whatever  with  her.  His  opposition  to  my 
visiting  his  daughter  is  without  the  semblence  of 
justice,  or  a  sensible  reason  for  acting  as  he  is  now 

WHAT  NUT? — 21. 


322  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

doing.  I  presume  that  he  is  apprehensive  that  my 
visits  would  stand  in  the  way  of  the  cherrished  pur 
pose  of  his  mind,  which  is,  that  Miss  Lunata  is 
ultimately  to  become  the  wife  of  the  man  whose 
horse  you  have  seen  hitched  tri-weekly  in  front  of  her 
father's  house  You  have  certainly  seen  that  horse, 
as  well  as  his  rider,  often  enough  in  your  passing 
to  and  from  school,  to  know  to  whom  I  allude  without 
my  calling  his  name.  But  I  need  not  go  further  into 
particulars;  suffice  it  to  say,  in  my  present  emergency 
I  need  a  friend — a  true  friend — a  friend  who  can  keep 
his  own  counsels — who  can  be  wary  and  watchful, 
and  on  whom  I  can  most  implicitly  rely. 

"Trust  me,  Prof.  Parsons,  I  am  your  friend,  and, 
that  I  may  prove  myself  to  be  just  what  I  claim  to  be, 
command  my  services.  I  will  perform  any  duty  you 
may  require  at  my  hands.  Your  honorable  course  in 
your  professional  work — the  esteem  in  which  you  are 
held  by  your  patrons,  and  your  almost  unrivaled 
popularity,  I  would  regard  as  a  sufficient  guarantee 
that  you  would  ask  me  to  do  nothing  which  would  be 
incompatible  with  the  conduct  of  a  gentleman.  I  will 
not  only  aid  you,"  continued  Lasell,  "to  the  full  extent 
of  my  ability,  but  I  will  be  glad,  yea,  proud,  to  lend 
you  any  help  in  my  power,  and  I  assure  you  that  you 
may  depend  upon  my  carrying  a  still  tongue." 

"  With  regard  to  the  horse  of  which  you  made  men 
tion,  I  have  often  thought  he  reminded  me  of  the  equine 
attachment  to  a  cavalry  post  whose  rider  was  on  picket 
duty  guarding  the  outpost  lest  the  camp  should  be 
surprised  and  the  valuables  thereof  captured  and 
carried  away.  If  this  is  his  mission,  however,  I  am 
persuaded  that  his  eyes  are  not  set  right  in  his  head, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  323 

to  make  him  a  good  guard  against  the  capture  of  the 
young  and  handsome  damsel  upon  whom  he  thinks  he 
holds  a  first  mortgage." 

"The  simple,  plain  truth,  Prof.  Parsong,  is,  that 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  not  only  has  no  admiration  for 
Aurelius  Munson,  but  dislikes  him,  and  tolerates  his 
company  only  in  deference  to  the  wishes  of  her  father. 
This  I  know  to  be  true,  for  I  have  seen  and  heard 
enough  to  satisfy  any  one  save  the  man  himself ;  and, 
why  he  has  not  sufficient  mental  acumen  to  have  dis 
covered  what  is  patent  to  so  many  others,  is  to  me 
very  remarkable. 

From  these  observations,  Parsons  at  once  discovered 
that  Lasell  was  his  friend  for  two  reasons.  First, 
because  of  his  personal  fondness  for  him, as  his  teacher, 
and  secondly,  out  of  sympathy  for  Miss  Lunata. 

After  this  interview,  whenever  it  becacame  neces 
sary  for  Parsons  to  communicate  with  her  who 
was  now .  his  affianced,  he  had  only  to  notify 
young  Lasell,  and  he  was  ready  to  bear  a  message  or 
carry  a  letter  as  the  Professor  might  direct.  His 
charge,  on  these  occasions,  the  young  man  faithfully 
executed,  and  the  messages,  wrhether  verbal  or  written, 
were  delivered  with  punctilious  exactness  or  commen 
dable  promptness. 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Rowdon  had  never  suspected  that 
this  young  kinsman  had  been  taken  into  the  confidence 
of  the  man  for  whom  he  had  expressed  admiration  as  a 
teacher,  but  whom  he  was  unwilling  to  tolerate 
as  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  his  daughter.  Lasell 
regarded  the  edict]  indirectly  issued,  which 
barred  the  professor  from  visiting  his  home,  as 
both  cruel  and  unwise.  As  to  the  decree  of  his 


324  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

uncle,  forbidding  the  association  of  his  daughter 
with  the  teacher  whom  the  pupils  held  in  such  high 
esteem,  and  the  effort  which  was  being  made  to  erect 
an  insuperable  barrier  to  the  association  of  these  two 
young  people,  Lasell  regarded  as  unjust  and  meanty 
selfish. 

The  reasoning  of  Lasell  in  regard  to  the  objection 
that  had  been  offered  by  Mr.  Rowdon,  to  the  asso 
ciation  of  his  daughter  and  Parsons,  as  made  known  to 
him  by  his  cousin  Lunata,  was  on  the  side  of  mercy.  He 
could  not  reconcile  himself  to  the  belief  that  the  order 
of  Mr.  Rowdon  was  not  only  unwise  but  impolitic.  He 
especially  so  regarded  it,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  there 
was  such  an  incomparable  difference  between  the 
genuine  worth  of  his  preceptor,  and  the  self-estimated 
value  of  Aurelius  Munson.  It  was  therefore  without 
any  pangs  of  a  disturbed  conscience  that  he  was  ready 
to  succor  the  young  teacher,  and  aid  him  in  defeating 
the  cruel  purposes  of  farmer  Rowdon. 

As  was  anticipated,  an  improvised  detective  was 
employed  by  Miss  Lunata's  father,  and  he  was  put 
upon  the  track  to  watch  Prof.  Parsons,  and  make 
a  report  to  the  farmer  from  time  to  time,  at  his  head 
quarters. 

The  thing,  which,  at  this  particular  crisis,  had  a 
very  important  bearing  upon  the  case  under  consider 
ation,  and  which  gave  Parsons  the  most  trouble,  was, 
that  Mr.  Rowdon's  nosing  detective  should  have  been 
one  of  the  Watson  boys  with  whose  parents  Prof.  Par 
sons  was  still  boarding. 

The  relations  of  the  young  teacher  with  that  family, 
previous  to  this  member  of  the  family  lending  himself 
to  such  an  unworthy  purpose,  had  been  very  pleasant. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  325 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  ladies  of  the  family 
had  been  especially  kind  to  him,  and  in  many  ways 
had  shown  him  marked  attention.  He  appreciated 
these  little  displays  of  favoritism;  still,  there  was  not 
much  in  common  between  him  and  the  Watson  family. 
He  was  educated  and  none  of  them  were.  He  had 
a  taste  for  literature,  and  they  had  none.  But, 
notwithstanding  all  this,  it  was  a  matter  of  painful 
solicitude  to  him  that  there  should  be  thrust  into  his 
history  an  action  which  might  lead  to  a  severance  of 
the  friendship  between  himself  and  the  Watsons.  Of 
course,  he  dreamed  of  nothing  more  serious. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  understand  why  Mr.  Rowdon 
should  have  employed  Alf.  Watson  as  his  private 
detective.  Alf.  had  been  filling  the  position  of  night- 
watch  in  the  adjacent  town  for  some  time,  and,  having 
lost  his  place,  had  come  home  to  remain  until  some 
opening  for  business  presented  itself.  Mr.  Rowdon 
knew  this,  and  knew  as  well  that  he  could  employ  Alf. 
to  do  any  kind  of  work  that  did  not  make  him 
amenable  to  the  law.  Mr.  Rowdon  also  knew,  that, 
being  in  a  position  where  he  would  be  brought  in  con 
tact  with  Prof.  Parsons  every  day,  his  opportunity  for 
discovering  just  what  moves  the  young  teacher  was 
making  would  be  better,  and  the  exact  condition  of 
affairs  as  between  the  young  preceptor  and  Miss  Lunata 
more  easily  discovered.  Of  course  this  arrangement 
made  Watson  a  confidant  of  Mr.  Rowdon,  and 
empowered  him  with  full  authority  to  look  into  every 
thing  that  would  shed  any  light  upon  the  status  of 
affairs  between  his  daughter  and  the  Professor. 
J  Alf.  Watson  seemed  rather  elated  over  having 
been  selected  to  fill  so  important  a  trust.  This  was 


326  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

evidenced  by  the  way  in  which  he  deported  himself. 
Even  if  the  Professor  had  not  been  apprised  of  Alf's 
having  been  elevated  to  the  position  of  a  spy,  his  deport 
ment  would  have  rendered  the  young  teacher  suspicious 
and  watchful. 

There  was  boarding  with  the  Watson  family  a  young 
man  who  was  about  Parsons'  age — a  sprightly  and 
clever  fellow,  who  had  attended  school  under  Parsons, 
while  he  was  but  a  tyro  as  a  teacher,  and  who  followed 
him  into  his  new  field.  Being  a  good  student,  and 
not  especially  interested  in  any  one  in  the  vicinity 
except  his  teacher,  he  gave  himself  little  or  ho  concern 
about  what  was  going  on  around  him.  To  Parsons, 
this  young  man — Kirtland  by  name,  was  devotedly 
attached.  His  age,  and  his  former  admiration  for  the 
young  preceptor  had  previously  created  a  bond  of 
strong  friendship  between  the  two.  Young  Kirtland 
came  into  the  Watson  neighborhood  not  a  great  while 
before  the  opening  up  of  the  stirring  events  in  the 
history  of  his  esteemed  preceptor,  and,  their  former 
intimacy  having  been  renewed,  the  relations  between 
the  two  became  a  doubly  welded  tie  of  personal 
attachment. 

Kirtland  had  not  long  been  a  boarder  in  the  Watson 
family,  until  he  gathered  an  inkling  that  was  dropped 
by  members  of  that  family  that  Professor  Parsons 
was  involved  in  some  kind  of  trouble.  While 
Kirtland  did  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  disturb 
ance,  he  had  discovered  its  origin,  and  such  was  his 
confidence  in  the  integrity  and  self-sacrificing  honesty 
of  the  young  teacher,  that,  without  investigation,  he 
assumed  that  his  friend  and  teacher  had  been 
wronged  and  unjustly  treated. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  327 

This  young,  gentlemanly  student,  knew  Parsons,  and 
looked  upon  him  as  incapable  of  committing  a  mean 
act.  He  knew  him  to  be  a  proud-spirited  and  high- 
toned  gentleman.  No  sooner  did  he  learn  that  his 
teacher,  for  whom  he  had  such  a  high  regard,  was 
environed  by  some  character  of  harm,  than  there  was 
aroused  within  him  a  sympathy  that  betokened  help 
for  his  teacher,  should  it  be  discovered  that  help  was 
needed. 

Kirtland  went,  with  the  information  he  had  gleaned 
from  the  Watsons  in  regard  to  the  disturbance  between 
him  and  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon,  at  the  very  first  suitable 
opportunity,  and  told  him  that  if  he  could  be  of  any 
possible  assistance  to  him,  he  would  be  glad  to  be 
called  to  his  aid. 

In  asmuch  as  Miss  Lunata  had,  on  more  occasions 
than  one, suggested  the  necessity  for  her  and  the  Professor 
to  keep  their  own  counsels,  and  make  no  confidants, 
and  dearly  as  Parsons  prized  the  honest,  straight-forward 
friendship  of  Charles  Kirtland,  he  had  never  inti 
mated  to  him  anything  about  his  attachment  to  Miss 
Rowdon,  nor  mentioned  a  word  about  the  trouble  in 
which  he  had  become  involved.  But,  inasmuch  as  Mr. 
Rowdon,  through  his  appointment  of  an  ignorant  spy, 
had  let  most  of  the  circumstances  out  that  Parsons  and 
Miss  Lunata  had  desired  to  be  kept  concealed  from 
outsiders,  the  Professor  thought  no  harm  could  result 
from  making  a  revelation  to  Kirtland  of  the  whole 
matter,  and  soliciting  his  aid  in  helping  to  hoodwink 
the  ignorant  Alf  Watson.  This  detective,  Parsons  told 
him,  was  to  report  from  time  to  time  to  Mr.  Rowdon 
what  progress  was  being  made  by  himself  and  Miss 
Lunata,  in  carrying  on  a  clandestine  communication. 


328  WHAT  NEXT?   OR 

Having  made  a  full  statement  of  the  facts  connected 
with  his  courtship,  Parsons  counseled  Kitland  as  his  con 
fidant,  to  practice  strict  prudence  in  keeping  his  tongue 
bridled,  and  standing,  with  ears  open,  on  the  lookout,  in 
watchful  silence.  By  such  a  course,  he  informed  Kirt- 
land,  he  might  render  him  incalculable  service.  More 
than  one  pair  of  eyes,  said  he,  will  be  needed  to  watch 
the  movements  of  the  spies  that  are  constantly  in  my 
wake.  He  told  Kirtland,  that  as  a  boarder  in  the 
Watson  family,  he  might  be  of  special  advantage,  in 
finding  opportunities  to  work  Alf  Watson  in  his  traces, 
and  having  him  pull  his  wagon,  without  his  knowing 
it.  A  traitor  to  his  former  friendship,  he  deserved  but 
little  attention,  except  to  be  defeated  in  every  movement 
he  might  make. 

Young  Kirtland  was  full  of  desire  to  show  his  teacher 
how  loyal  he  could  prove  himself  to  be  in  his  friend 
ship,  and,  of  course,  was  ready  to  listen  to  any 
suggestion  Parsons  might  make.  Even  while  Parsons 
was  making  a  recital  of  the  facts  that  had  driven  him 
into  such  trouble,  Kirtland  could  hardly  restrain  him 
self  from  indulging  in  uncomplientmary  invectives 
against  Alf.  Watson  for  selling  himself  to  so  low  and 
debasing  a  position  as  the  one  he  was  filling. 
Parsons  and  Kirtland  both  knew  that  Alf.  carried  a 
minimum  allowance  of  mind  and  a  large  share  of  low, 
deceitful  cunning,  and  to  defeat  his  cunning,  upset  his 
plans,  and  turn  what  he  considered  his  stragetic  move 
ments  into  failures,  was  resolved  upon. 

A  course  of  proceedure  was  agreed  upon  between 
Parsons  and  Kirtland,  whereby  it  was  understood  that 
the  latter  should,  if  possible,  so  ingratiate  himself  into 
the  favor  of  Alf.  Watson  as  to  become  his  confidant, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  329 

and  in  that  way  draw  from  him  all  that  he  knew  which 
would  shed  any  light  upon  what  was  being  done  to 
thwart  the  purposes  of  his  teacher,  or  help  to  an 
understanding  of  how  matters  were  progressing  in  the 
Rowdon  family. 

By  a  prudent  and  sagacious  course,  Kirtland  suc 
ceeded,  and,  in  a  short  while,  was  seeing  through  Alf.'s 
eyes,  a  large  part  of  everything  that  had  recently  taken 
place,  that  was  in  anyway  connected  with  matters 
about  which  Parsons  wanted  information.  Especially 
was  this  true  as  to  what  moves  Mr.  Rowdon  was 
making  in  order  to  fully  inform  himself  with  regard  to 
what  Prof.  Parsons  was  proposing  to  do  in  the  case 
pending  between  him  and  his  daughter,  and  who  were 
the  principal  parties  through  whom  Mr.  Rowdon  was 
seeking  to  defeat  the  intentions  of  t  he  two  young 
people.  In  like  manner  young  Kirtland  had  so  far 
brought  Alf .  under  his  power  as  to  be  using  his  ears  to 
hear  all  the  secret  plans  and  schemes  which  Lunata's 
father  was  devising  for  the  purpose  of  upsetting  any 
pre-concerted  communication  between  her  and  the 
Professor.  From  Alf.  the  information  was  gathered 
that  if  nothing  else  would  accomplish  the  result 
which  Miss  Lunata's  father  had  determined  upon,  as  a 
last  resort,  it  had  been  decided  that  the  young  teacher 
should  be  banished  from  the  neighborhood. 

The  last  term  for  the  scholastic  year  of  Parsons' 
teaching  was  nearing  its  close,  and  still  the  uneasiness 
which  Mr.  Rowdon  felt,  over  what  he  considered  a 
dangerous  state  of  affairs,  drove  him  to  the  conclusion 
that  Parsons  had  better  be  banished  from  the  neighbor 
hood  at  once.  Under  the  advice,  however,  of  some  of 
his  abettors,  it  was  decided  that  a  wiser  plan  would 


330  WHAT  NEXT?   OE 

be  to  allow  his  school  to  run  on  till  its  legitimate 
close,  but,  in  the  mean  time,  to  work  up  a  prejudice 
against  him,  and  help  to  nullify  the  admiration  which 
Miss  Rowdon  had  for  him. 

The  effort  to  accomplish,  through  this  means,  the 
result  sought,  was  a  signal  failure,  for  Mr.  Rowdon  had 
miscalculated  the  influence  and  popularity  which  the 
upright  and  gentlemanly  conduct  of  the  young  man 
had  secured.  It  was  like  trying  to  suppress  the 
fragrance  of  flowers  by  tramping  upon  them— 
the  greater  the  effort  to  create  prejudice  against 
the  faithful  and  honest  young  preceptor,  the  greater 
was  the  amount  of  sympathy  awakened  in  his  behalf 
and  the  more  he  grew  in  favor  and  towards  the  pro 
portions  of  a  hero. 

Prof.  Parsons  passed  in  and  out  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  work,  with  a  reputation  untainted  by  wrong, 
unless  to  look  upon  a  lovely  girl,  in  all  the  glory  and 
beauty  of  her  blooming  womanhood,  and  love  her  in 
violation  of  the  mandate  of  her  money  loving  father 
was  a  crime.  Loving  her  he  did  not  deny;  but,  beyond 
this,  he  made  no  admissions.  If  this  charge  had  been 
laid  at  his  door,  even  by  the  father  of  the  young  lady 
who  had  made  an  appeal  to  his  aesthetic  taste  as  no 
other  fair  specimen  of  womanhood  had  ever  done  ; 
with  the  honesty  and  courage  of  a  manly  nature,  he 
would  have  confessed  himself  guilty  of  admiring  the 
young  lady,  and  would  have  demanded  of  his 
questioner  the  amount  of  penalty  which  he  proposed 
to  assess  for  saying  his  daughter  was  beautiful,  and  as 
lovely  as  she  was  handsome. 

The  efforts  to  engender,  in  the  minds  of  the  people, 
a  spirit  of  persecution  and  evil  speaking  against  the 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  331 

young  teacher  having  proved  abortive,  Aurelius  Munson 
grew  garrulous,  in  his  insipid  platitudes  about  the  pre 
sumption  of  Prof.  Parsons'  attempt  to  win  the  esteem 
of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon ;  and  while  he  discussed  the 
utter  futility  of  the  young  teacher's  presumptuous 
interference  with  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon,  in 
the  presence  of  such  persons  as  would  lend  him 
attention,  it  was  only  to  have  such  auditors  turn  away 
in  disgust,  and  laughing  in  their  sleeves,  ask  if 
Munson's  case  was  not  a  parallel  to  that  of  Aesop's 
fable  of  the  fox  and  the  grapes. 

Through  a  letter  transmitted  to  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon 
by  the  hands  of  young  Jerry  Lasell,  an  appointment 
wras  made  between  the  two  lovers  to  meet  each  other 
at  a  church  only  a  few  miles  from  farmer  Rowdon's — 
a  church  of  which  Miss  Lunata's  mother  had  been  a 
communicant  during  the  latter  part  of  her  life,  and 
consequently  a  church  for  whose  membership  the 
daughter  cherished  a  high  regard.  The  day  specified, 
upon  which  this  meeting  was  to  take  take  place,  was 
the  Sunday  subsequent  to  the  Monday  upon  which  the 
letter  was  delivered. 

While  the  affairs  of  the  two  restless  and  over-anxious 
parties  were  having  a  sharp  and  constant  espionage 
kept  over  them,  as  the  employed  emissaries  of  Mr, 
Rowdon  were  reporting  from  time  to  time,  these  spies 
Vere  being  completely  blinded  to  the  true  state  of 
affairs,  and  their  work  therefore  rendered  nugatory. 

With  things  in  this  shape,  the  father  of  John  Parsons- 
having  learned  that  his  son  had  become  involved  in 
some  kind  of  an  entanglement,  made  him  a  visit,  that 
he  might  ascertain  the  precise  character  of  his  trouble, 
and,  if  prudence  so  demanded,  to  offer  his  son  a. 


:332  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

father's  advice.  When  he  had  sufficiently  questioned 
•his  son  to  satisfy  himself  in  regard  to  the  nature  and 
•cause  of  the  existing  disturbance,  the  father  ventured 
upon  giving  his  son  such  advice  as  a  good,  kind, 
-loving  paternal  heart  suggested. 

The  elder  Parsons  was  proud  of  his  boy,  and  thought 
•him  too  fine  a  specimen  of  uncorrupted  manhood;  too 
noble  an  exemplification  of  genuine  honesty;  too  bright 
a  personification  of  ambitious  energy,  and  too  proud 
•spirited  to  ever  entertain  the  thought  of  marrying  any 
woman,  in  open  and  defiant  opposition  to  the  wishes 
-of  her  father.  Mr.  Parsons,  ST.,  was  somewhat 
well  acquainted  with  the  antecedents  of  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon,  and  was  therefore  the  more  surprised  that  he 
should  have  objected  to  the  attention  which  his  son 
was  showing  to  Miss  Rowdon.  The  senior  Parsons 
thought  it  was  barely  possibly  that  he  might  over-value 
"the  real  worth  of  his  boy  ;  but  when  he  remembered 
the  difficulties  through  which  he  had  climbed,  and  the 
•general  reputation  he  had  sustained  for  integrity,  the 
•possibility  that  he  had  made  an  over-estimate  of  his 
real  worth,  dwindled  below  even  a  probability. 

After  a  long  talk,  and  an  anxious  talk  with  his  son, 
in  regard  to  the  momentous  issue  involved  in  the  ques 
tion  with  which  he  was  then  struggling,  characterized, 
-as  wras  his  conversation,  by  a  gracious  blandness,  Mrj| 
Parsons,   ST.,  at    length   reached  a  pause,   and  John 
asked   him    if   his   admonitory   speech  was    finished. 
'To  this  the  father  replied  that  he  supposed  he  had  said 
enough. 

John  thanked  his  father,  in  true  and  genuine  filial 
«tyle,  for  his  visit,  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
*Could  not  be  interpreted  in  any  other  way  than  as  an 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  333- 

indication  of  the  abiding  interest  which  he  felt  for  him-, 
as  a  son.  He  told  his  father  that  he  knew  every  word, 
which  he  had  uttered  was  the  prompting  of  immeasur 
able  affection.  But  he  was  frank  in  his  response  to, 
his  father,  and  told  him  that  while  he  would  ever 
carry  the  profoundest  respect  and  veneration  for  him. 
and  the  mother  whom  he  loved,  a  decision  in  regard 
to  the  matter  which  he  then  had  under  consideration. 
was  one  which  fell  not  wholly  within  the  scope  of 
home  influence,  nor  sought  for  a  verdict  in  home 
counsel ;  that  there  were  two  people,  and  only  two,, 
who  were  directly  and  individually  interested, 
in  that  decision ;  all  other  interests  were  sec 
ondary.  He  assured  his  father  that  he  believed  the 
resolution  and  fixedness  of  purpose,  upon  the  part 
of  the  young  lady  between  whom  and  himself  there, 
had  been  a  plighting  of  vows,  was  as  unbending  as. 
the  oak,  and  as  uncompromising  as  death..  He  said,, 
as  well,  that  while  she  might  decide  to  fly  with  him  to 
the  American  Gretna  Green  to  have  consummated, 
what  had  already  been  fully  decided  by  her  father 
could  never  be  perfected  at  home ;  such  a  step,  if 
taken,  would  be  attended  by  a  fearful  and  tearful 
sacrifice  upon  her  part,  and  by  a  humiliating  struggle 
upon  his.  The  young  lady  had'  been  a  dutiful  and 
devoted  daughter,  and  to  tear  herself  from  home,  and 
all  its  tender  endearments,  would  cost  her  a  wonderful 
struggle.  So  far  as  he  was  individually  concerned,  he 
felt  that  his  pride  would  suffer  an  eclipse,  and  that  he 
would  be  left  with  the  depressing  belief  that  honor  and, 
uprightness  were  below  par  in  the  world's  market. 

In  addition,  John,  said  to  his  lather,   that,  while  he, 
saw  no  other  alternative  than  to  fly  with  the  young  ladyr 


334  WHAT   NEXT?   OR 

from  the  cruel  exactions  of  a  money- worshiping  father, 
that  such  a  decision  had  not  been  fully  matured,  but  he 
might  rest  assured,  that,  upon  reaching  a  conclusion, 
there  would,  in  that  conclusion,  be  as  much  steadiness 
and  clinging  determination  to  adhere  to  it  as  there 
was  with  Ixion  to  his  ever-revolving  wheel.  In  other 
words,  if  they  decided  to  go,  neither  paternal  expos 
tulations  nor  threats — neither  bars  nor  bolts  could 
intercept  their  final  purpose.  On  the  other  hand, 
should  the  matured  determination  be  reached,  that 
they  could  not  take  such  a  step,  that  would  end  the 
whole  matter,  unless  something  better  presented  itself, 
whereby  their  wishes  could  be  consumated. 

There  was  one  thing  which  the  son  seemed  especially 
anxious  to  impresss  upon  the  mind  of  his  father.  It 
was  this:  He  wanted  him  to  remember  that  if  he 
married  the  lady  in  question  without  the  consent  of  her 
father,  such  a  relation  would  not  be  entered  into  with 
out  due  consideration  of  the  exceedingly  great  import 
ance  of  the  step.  That  the  venture  would  not  be 
made  till  after  the  most  earnest  and  careful  survey  had 
been  made  of  every  responsibility  that  would  be 
incurred  in  entering  upon  such  changed  conditions — a 
studied  view  of  the  outlying  prospective — an  honest 
effort  to  get  at  a  just  appreciation  of  such  a  move,  and 
to  understand  the  fearfulness  of  failure,  in  assuming  so 
responsible  an  undertaking.  The  son  declared  with  the 
profoundest  seriousness  that  his  courtship  of  Miss 
Rowdon  was  anything  else  than  a  boyish  freak — that 
his  was  a  manly  fight  for  what  he  believed  would  prove 
to  be  the  joy  of  a  better  and  happier  life.  In  the  sight 
of  Heaven's  witnesses,  he  dec-lared,  he  had  honestly 
appealed  for  aid  to  his  reason,  in  deciding  what  to  do 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  335 

that  would  best  secure  the  merited  happiness  of  two 
resolute  and  determined  people,  neither  of  whom  would 
willingly  violate  any  known  law  of  right. 

The  elder  Parsons  was  deeply  moved  by  the  earnest 
ness — the  apparently  dispassionate  calmness,  and  the 
manifisted  resolution  of  his  son,  while  explaining  to 
him  the  position  in  which  he  was  placed,  and  the 
further  unfolding  of  his  purposes,  or  what  course  he 
intended  to  pursue  in  regard  to  marrying  the  young 
lady  to  whom  he  was  then  engaged.  To  every  thing  the 
son  had  to  say,  the  father  listened  with  increasing 
interest,  and  when  he  found  how  philosophic  beseemed 
to  be  in  the  positions  taken  and  the  resolutions  formed, 
he  spoke  kindly  to  the  son,  and  expressed  the  hope 
that  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  betrayed  into 
doing  anything  that  would  savor  of  wrong.  He  then 
bade  the  son  a  kindly  good-bye,  and,  somewhat 
saddened  by  the  interview,  turned  his  face  homeward. 

On  the  following  Sunday  morning,  according  to  pre 
vious  arrangement,  Prof.  Parsons  met  Miss  Lunata 
Rowdon  at  the  designated  country  church. 

Just  here  it  will  be  necessary  to  state  that  the  church 
selected  for  the  meeting  of  these  two  young  people,  was  a 
place  of  popular  resort  for  church-goers.  Many,  however, 
who  attended,  went  rather  to  be  seen  and  heard  them 
selves,  than  to  hear  what  the  minister  had  to  say.  It  was 
the  usual  custom  in  those  days  of  the  long  ago,  espe 
cially  in  good  and  pleasant  weather,  for  the  overflow  of 
the  congregation,  which  attended  this  church,  to  hold 
its  meetings  under  the  shade  trees  that  graced  the 
large  yard. 

The  two  young  people,  therefore,  who  met,  by  a 
previous  arrangement,  at  this  country  church,  for  the 


336  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

transaction  of  business  that  necessarily  interfered  with 
their  giving  any  attention  to  the  devotional  exercises 
of  the  inner  sanctuary,  did  nevertheless  do  some  wor 
shipping  beneath  the  umbrageous  covering  of  nature's 
first  temples — the  trees.  Whether  their  devotions 
were  of  a  character  to  rise  higher  than  their  own  heads 
is  doubtful  ;  but,  it  may  be  confidently  asserted,  that 
there  was  more  heart  in  the  speech  of  one  pleader  who 
stood  in  the  shadow  of  those  trees,  by  large  odds, 
than  there  was  in  the  sermon  from  the  pulpit,  although 
the  preacher  made  very  much  more  noise.  Yes,  that  par 
ticular  outside  meeting  involved  the  interest,  of  two 
souls  that  longed  for  a  common  goal — two  hearts  that 
beat  in  unison,  and  to  the  same  music.  That  outside 
meeting — that  leafy-bowered  meeting — that  quiet  and 
Becluded  meeting,  had  dove-tailed  into  it  possibilities 
that  would  open  up  and  develop  a  halo  of  brightness 
that  would  be  a  foretaste  of  bliss  beatific  to  that  pair 
of  young  outside  worshipers ;  or  it  would  end  with  a 
mantle  of  gloom  enshrouding  them  as  dark  as  that 
which  hangs  as  a  pall,  over  the  casket  of  the  unburied 
dead. 

There  was  a  look  of  anxiety  that  hung  about  the 
features  of  the  usually  cheerful  face  of  John  Parsons 
when  he  and  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  met.  She  had  not 
been  well  for  a  number  of  days,  and  of  course  it  could 
hardly  have  been  expected  that  she  would  wear  her 
usually  bright  and  cherry  face.  Indeed  had  it  not 
have  been  considered  exceedingly  important  that 
she  should  be  in  attendance  upon  this  appointment, 
she  would  have  disappointed  Prof.  Parsons  this  one 
time,  and  would  have  depended  upon  his  generosity 
and  her  illness  to  have  plead  that  she  be  forgiven. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  337 

The  meeting  had  been  appointed  by  him,  it  was  true, 
but  then  she  was  equally  interested  with  him  in  having 
the  meeting,  and  had  hence  run  some  risk  in  coming 
out.  But,  this  aside.  It  would  have  been  easy  for 
one,  even  partially  skilled  in  physiognomy,  to  have 
discovered  that  something  was  wrong  with  these  young 
people.  That  they  were  ill  at  ease  they  could  not 
conceal — that  there  was  trouble  hanging  about  their 
horizon  was  evident — that  an  ordeal  of  pain- making 
was  hanging  in  troublous  clouds  all  about  them,  could 
have  been  easily  discovered.  As  to  what  it  was  that 
seemed  so  like  an  incubus,  weighing  down  the  spirits 
of  this  usually  buoyant  and  glad  hearted  pair,  some 
essayed  to  guess,  but  none  dared  to  say  from  what  the 
trouble  came. 

If  the  curious  and  prying  eyes  which  had  observed 
the  half  dejected  look  of  both  of  these  outside  worship 
ers,  as  they  stood  under  the  sheltering  shadow  of  the 
trees,  could  have  looked  into  the  depths  of  those 
troubled  souls,  they  would  have  been  siezed  by  a  large 
amount  of  sympathy.  Sorrow  and  sympathy  are  akin, 
and  a  tear  of  grief  is  one  of  the  dialects  of  the  soul. 

Lunata's  father  had  very  recently  discovered,  as  he 
thought,  that  there  was  some  disposition  upon  the  part 
of  the  daughter  to  disobey  him,  in  regard  to  his  order 
that  she  should  cease  altogether  to  notice  or  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  Prof.  Parsons.  This  had  brought 
about  a  clash,  where,  by  right,  nought  should  have 
existed  between  father  and  daughter  except  kindness 
and  considerate  affection.  The  father  had  again 
scolded  his  daughter,  and  positively  commanded  her  to 

WHAT  NEXT? — 22. 


338  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

break  off  any  further  recognition  of  Parsons,  and  in 
the  future  to  entirely  ignore  him  as  beneath  her,  and 
unworthy  of  either  her  company  or  her  confidence. 

In  his  array  of  objections  to  Parsons,  (to  his  credit  be 
it  said)  he  never  claimed  to  have  discovered  one  single 
flaw  in  the  moral  character  of  the  man  against  whom 
he  was  so  resolutely  and  defiantly  commanding  his 
daughter  to  have  no  further  communication.  But, 
while  Mr.  Rowdon  did  not  present  the  motive  which 
prompted  to  this  second  dictatorial  outburst  against  an 
unoffending  gentleman,  could  the  covert  reason  for  his 
actions  have  been  disclosed,  it  would  have  been  found 
that  no  remote  connection  existed  between  this  speech 
to  his  daughter,  and  the  attentions  to  her  of  the  man 
who  had  so  long  monopolized  the  hitching-rack  in  front 
of  the  Rowdon  mansion. 

To  this  bitter  speech  of  her  father,  Miss  Lunata 
listened  with  a  perturbed  look  of  mingled  surprise  and 
half  obstinate  defiance.  Not  one  word  did  she  permit 
to  escape  her  lips  during  this  bout.  Still  there  was 
disclosed  in  her  countenance  more  rebellion  than  she 
could  have  revealed  in  speech. 

Miss  Lunata 's  devotion  to  her  father  had  hitherto 
rendered  her  at  all  times  ready  to  acquiesce  in  his 
wishes.  She  was  an  obedient  child,  and  when,  in  con 
sequence  of  the  death  of  her  mother,  she  was  placed  in 
a  position  illy  suited  to  her  years,  her  father's  interest 
inspired  her  to  efforts  in  her  general  work  of  super 
intendence,  which  challenged  the  admiration  of  the 
women  who  had  made  themselves  acquainted  with  her 
work.  Her  father  appreciated  her  self-sacrificing 
devotion  to  his  interest.  He  was  proud  of  her,  and 
was  especially  kind  to  her.  The  two  tilts  he  had  made 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  339 

with  her,  over  the  attention  which  she  was  receiving  from 
Prof.  Parsons,  and  which  the  father  believed  she 
sanctioned  and  approved,  were  singularly  offensive  to 
the  high-spirited  young  lady,  as  well  as  matters  of 
surprise.  Her  filial  gratitude  was  taxed  to  the  very 
highest  point,  and  she  only  rebelled  when  she  became 
convinced  that,  like  the  Circassian  girl,  a  price  had 
been  put  upon  her  head  which  she  had  never  indorsed. 
The  conflict  was  upon  her,  and  Miss  Lunata's  physical 
strength  was  hardly  equal  to  the  ordeal.  No  wonder, 
therefore,  that  she  looked  cowed  and  disheartened 
when  she  met  Parsons  under  the  shade  of  the  trees  in 
the  country  church  yard.  No  wonder  that  she  wore 
that  pallid  and  gloomy  face.  Hers  had  been  no  mean 
trial,  and,  although  she  stood  the  test,  she  did  not 
come  therefrom  unharmed. 

Seeing  the  trouble  that  outlined  itself  in  the  counte 
nance  and  general  appearance  of  languor  which  Miss 
Lunata  exhibited,  Parsons  became  somewhat  alarmed, 
and  addressing  her  in  sympathetic  tenderness,  told  her 
that  he  apprehended  it  was  trouble  which  had  set 
its  signet  in  the  pallor  of  her  face  rather  than  her  sick 
ness — that  possibly  her  trouble  had  given  rise  to  her 
sickness,  and  was  therefore  the  real  or  prime  cause  of 
her  weakened  condition. 

As  Parsons  looked  into  the  face  of  the  woman  he 
so  devotedly  loved,  he  felt  disposed  to  censure  himself 
for  the  trouble  into  which  he  had  brought  her.  He  felt 
conscience-smitten,  and  had  the  canopy  of  the  trees 
beneath  which  they  stood,  been  a  full  protection  from 
an  outside  view,  he  would,  upon  bended  knees,  haye 
implored  her  forgiveness  for  the  part  he  had  played  in 
bringing  trouble.  As  it  was  upon  her,  he  concluded  it 


340  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

would  be  wrong  to  tax  her  strength  longer  with  the 
discussion  of  a  question  which  was  necessarily  exciting, 
and  therefore  proposed  to  defer  what  he  had  sought  to 
say  in  this  interview.  He  suggested  she  ought  not  to 
remain  longer,  and  that,  with  her  permission,  he  would 
see  her  company — get  her  horse — help  her  into  her 
saddle,  and  that,  at  some  subsequent  meeting,  or  by 
letter,  he  could  make  known  to  her  the  matters  he 
desired  to  communicate  at  this  meeting. 

Acting  upon  his  advice  the  two  started  to  the  stiles 
from  which  she  would  mount  her  horse.  Parsons  saw 
her  in  her  saddle  and  she  only  waited  long  enough  to 
say  that  she  felt  sad  at  the  thought  of  having  to  leave 
him  without  having  had  him  unburden  his  full  heart  to 
her  before  she  said  good-by.  She  rode  away  and, 
while  in  |the  distance,  but  still  in  sight,  she  waved 
Parsons  an  adieu.  When  she  was  no  longer  within 
the  range  of  vision,  Parsons  [turned,  and,  with  a  sad 
heart,  walked  away,  and,  as  he  walked,  he  could  not 
refra  in  from  asking  himself — What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"Entice  the  trusty  sun 
From  his  ecliptic  line,  he  shall  obey 
Your  heck,  and  wander  from  his  sphere,  ere  I 
From  my  resolves." 

— Baron, 

fHROUGH  the  agency  of  young  Jerry  Lasell,  an 
appointment  for  another  meeting  of  Miss  Lunata 
Rowclon  and  Prof.  Parsons  was  made.  The  place  of 
meeting  was  the  same  country  church  where  their 
last  conference  had  taken  place,  and  the  time  desig 
nated  was  just  two  weeks  subsequent  to  their  last 
seeing  each  other. 

Within  the  two  weeks  which  intervened  between  the 
two  meetings,  Miss  Lunata  had  very  much  improved, 
and  the  roseate  hue  which  usually  rivaled  the  tinting 
of  pink  flowers  had  found  its  way  back  to  her  cheeks. 
The  sparkling  brightness  of  her  eyes  that  was  ever 
wont  to  lend  a  charm  to  her  conversation,  was  again 
like  the  lustre  of  diamonds  which  had  undergone  a 
fresh  ablution.  In  fact,  Miss  Lunata  had  come  to 
herself  again.  But  while  she  seemed  to  have  risen 
superior  to  troubles  that  came  so  near  crushing  her 
young  spirit,  the  spies  through  whose  agency  it  was 
supposed  she  and  the  young  preceptor  were  to  be 
tracked,  and  the  every  movement  of  the  two  reported  to 
Mr.  Rowdon,  she  was  glad  to  have  discovered  were 
being  manipulated  by  the  craft  and  cunning  of  Charlie 
Kirtland,  and  with  such  adroitness,  too,  as  that 
the  dubitation  of  the  over-suspicious  was  being 
quieted.  This  was,  of  course,  a  matter  of  special 
gratification  to  Miss  Lunata.  She  considered  this  fact 
a  pledge  that  she  would  have  a  respite  from  persecution, 


342  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

at  least  for  a  time,  and  for  this  furlough  from  trouble, 
her  heart  went  out  jin  thankfulness  to  young  Kirtland. 

With  this  allaying  of  the  suspicion  which  had  taken 
such  deep  root  in  the  mind  of  her  father,  his  demeanor 
towards  his  daughter  underwent  a  very  marked  change, 
and  the  home  seemed  to  have  become  again  like  the 
home  of  former  days.  Her  father  had  noticed  that  the 
daughter  was  fading,  as  he  supposed,  under  the  power 
of  an  insidious  disease,  and  he  became  very  much  con 
cerned  about  her  condition,  and  his  attentive  kindness 
so  worked  upon  the  native  goodness  of  Miss  Lunata's 
heart  that  she  was  ready  to  forgive  him  for  every  harsh 
word  he  had  spoken  to  her,  in  his  efforts  to  subdue  her 
attachment  for  Prof.  Parsons, and  she  was  almost  ready 
to  forgive  him  for  his  turbulent  dislike  for  the  young 
teacher. 

During  the  first  part  of  the  two  weeks  which  inter 
vened  between  Miss  Lunata's  last  interview  with 
Prof.  Parsons,  and  the  appointed  time  for  their  next 
conference,  she  had  had  a  plausible  excuse  for  not 
seeing  Mr.  Munson,  notwithstanding  his  horse  still 
continued  to  be  hitched  to  the  self-same  post,  and 
which  he  had  so  deeply  incised  with  his  teeth,  as  to 
leave  his  autograph,  as  a  mark  of  his  constancy.  She 
had  been  indisposed  during  the  first  part  of  this  fort 
night,  and  when  Aurelius  Munson  called,  of  course,  she 
had  a  legitimate  and  plausible  excuse  for  not  making 
her  appearance.  Having  heard  that  he  called  almost 
every  day,  and  that  he  always  made  inquiry  in  regard 
to  her  health,  she  began  to  look  upon  his  visits  as 
something  exceedingly  commonplace ;  and,  as  he 
seemed  to  be  satisfied  with  calling  in  order  to  make  these 
inquiries  even  after  she  had  completely  recovered  from 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  343 

her  ailment,  she  betook  herself  to  her  room,  just 
as  soon  as  his  approach  was  announced,  and  he  had  to 
content  himself  with  an  inquiry  only.  So  the  two 
weeks  passed  and  Miss  Lunata  declared  that  she  had 
at  least  had  one  fortnight  of  real  pleasurable  rest  from 
listening  to  the  dull  platitudes  and  cackling  laugh  of 
her  father's  devoted  friend. 

When  the  two  weeks,  lacking  a  day,  had  passed,  the 
up-coming  of  the  sun  brought  with  it  a  gloriously 
bright  day — a  day  for  rest— a  day  for  serious  self- 
examination,  and  especially  a  day  to  which  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  and  Prof.  John  Parsons  had  looked 
with  anxious  expectancy.  Although  separated,  exult 
ant  gladness  seemed  to  play  such  an  important  part  in 
the  actions  of  each,  that  one  would  scarcely  have 
dared  to  positively  assert  that,  although  in  their  cor 
poreal  natures  they  were  separated,  there  was  not  some 
kind  of  an  interchange  of  spiritual  delights,  spiritual 
hopes,  and  spiritual  aspirations. 

No  objection  was  made  by  Miss  Lunata's  father  to 
her  attending  church,  on  the  day  she  was  to  meet 
Parsons,  and  at  the  right  time  a  member  of  his  troop 
of  slaves  brought  the  young  lady's  horse  from  the 
stable  well  groomed  ;  and  having  saddled  it,  he  held  it 
until  she  made  her  appearance  and  mounted  it.  At  the 
same  time  Sambo  No.  2  led  another  horse  to  the  blocks 
and  an  especial  friend  of  Miss  Rowdon  mounted  this, 
and  the  two  horses  were  soon  cantering  along  the  road 
toward  the  church  which  had  been  designated  as  the 
trysting-place  of  the  two  lovers. 

When  Miss  Rowdon  and  her  company  arrived  at  the 
church,  Parsons  was  in  waiting  for  them,  and  having 
assisted  the  young  ladies  to  alight,  he  gave  the  horses 


344  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

into  the  care  of  an  attendant  servant  and  escorted  the 
young  ladies  to  the  church,  and  saw  that  they  were 
comfortably  seated  near  one  of  the  doors,  while  he 
sought  a  place  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  near 
another  door.  This  action  was,  of  course,  preconcerted, 
and  was  designed,  first,  to  make  an  outward  exhibit  of 
indifference,  as  the  young  people  who  attended  this 
church  and  had  gentlemen  company  were  always  seated 
in  the  same  pew  ;  secondly,  the  selecting  of  a  different 
seat  and  that  in  a  different  part  of  the  house,  and  yet 
each  in  somewhat  close  proximity  to  different  doors, 
was  done  with  a  view  of  having  an  opportunity  for 
each  to  leave  the  house  at  about  the  same  time, 
and  making  their  exit  from  different  doors,  they  did 
not  seem  to  be  acting  in  concert,  or  that  one  was 
following,  the  cue  of  the  other. 

A  very  short  hearing  was  usually  given  to  what  the 
minister  had  to  say.  This  was  especial!}'  true  of  those 
who  attended  with  a  viewr  to  seeing  and  being  seen.  It 
was  especially  true  of  those  who  resorted  thither  as  a 
trysting-place — a  place  where  lovers  were  wont  to  pour 
out  the  emotions  of  their  souls. 

After  the  exercises  had  progressed  for  a  time  within 
the  church,  at  a  given  signal,  Parsons  indicated  to  Miss 
Lunata  his  design  of  leaving  the  house,  Miss  Lunata 
saw  the  signal,  and,  waiting  but  a  very  few  moments, 
she  too  arose  and  quitted  the  house,  it  being  under 
stood,  however,  that  the  young  lady  who  had  accom 
panied  her  should  remain  in  the  church  till  the  close  of 
the  services.  Once  out  of  the  building,  although  on 
opposite  sides  of  it,  very  little  time  was  consumed  in 
finding  each  other.  The  two  being  now  alone,  Parsons 
expressed  his  astonished  gratification  at  seeing  what 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  345 

two  weeks  had  done,  in  restoring  beautjT  and  brightness 
to  the  features  of  his  betrothed. 

Very  many  questions  were  asked  by  him,  and 
answered  by  her,  in  regard  to  what  she  had  learned 
since  their  last  interview  in  regard  to  the  condition 
of  affairs  in  her  home,  as  well  as  to  the  latest  informa 
tion  she  had  had  in  regard  to  her  father's  nosing 
committee.  Miss  Lunata  answered  all  his  questions, 
in  the  order  in  which  they  were  asked,  and  Parsons 
was  delighted  and  even  a  jubilant  listener. 

Their  conversation  finally  drifted  around  to  the  con 
sideration  of  the  theme  which  they  had  undertaken  to 
discuss  at  a  previous  interview,  but  had  to  abandon  on 
account  of  Miss  Lunata's  indisposition,  and  this  meet 
ing  had  been  decided  upon  as  opportune  for  the  further 
consideration  of  this'subject.  Prof.  Parsons,  however, 
injected  a  question  into  the  conversation  which  seemed 
to  Miss  Pvowdon  as  only  the  revamping  of  several 
previous  questions  embodied  in  one.  The  question 
propounded  to  her  was  this : 

"  Do  you  not  believe  that  some  possible  means 
might  be  discovered  whereby  the  prejudices  of  your 
father  against  me  could  be  removed?" 

Miss  Lunata  responded,  saying  that  she  thought  the 
same  question  had  been  fully,  formally  and  finally 
settled  in  a  former  interview.  She  would,  however, 
reiterate  her  answer,  and  emphasize  the  same  by 
saying,  that  if  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians 
were  changeless,  they  were  not  more  so,  than  would  be 
the  edict  of  her  father  against  their  proposed  marriage. 

"I  had  hoped  for  something  better,  My  Dear 
Lunata,"  said  Parsons,  "but  accepting  your  expressed 
views  of  his  unalterable  decree  as  being  fully  and 


346  WHAT  NEXT?   OB 

literally  true,  we  are  again  brought  face  to  face  with  a 
proposition  which  must  be  considered  with  all  the 
seriousness  which  its  importance  demands.  As  the 
matter  now  stands,  I  repeat  what  I  have  said  before, 
I  can  see  no  means  of  escape  from  the  flagrant 
injustice  and  cruel  authority  of  your  father  except 
through  flight.  I  know  you  have  magnanimously 
proposed  'to  follow  my  lead,'  but  in  view  of  the 
weighty  possibilities  that  necessarily  connect  them 
selves  with  such  a  move,  it  might  be  well  that  we 
re-examine  carefully  the  proposed  action  before  making 
a  final  decision.  I  consider  it  a  compliment  that  you 
have  expressed  a  willingness  to  pull  yourself  away 
from  the  proposed  thraldom  to  which  the  cupidity  of 
an  avaricious  father  would  consign  you,  and  go  with 
me  in  quest  of  a  new  and  better  prospect  for  happiness. 
But  my  dearest  Lunata,  I  would  not  for  the  world, 
were  it  mine,  lead  you  to  fly  from  present  ills,  with  the 
possibility  of  falling  into  severer  trials  that  you  know 
not  of.  At  least  give  the  subject  the  study  which  its 
importance  demands.  Please  allow  me  then,  my 
dearest  Lunata,  in  the  presence  of  Heaven  and  yourself 
as  witnesses  to  be  wholly  honest,  here  and  now  ! 

'  To  run  away  from  your  father — from  your  home — 
from  your  family — and  from  your  friends;  to  risk  your 
chances  in  the  stubborn  fight  of  life,  with  a  young 
man  who  has  not  even  a  home  of  his  own  to  which  he 
can  take  you,  to  make  the  best  of  it,  seems  very 
unpromising.  I  have  no  wealth  either  in  money  or 
lands.  I  am  poor,  and  you  would  become  the  sharer 
of  my  poverty.  You  would  cut  yourself  off  from 
being  a  participator  in  the  richest  abundance.  You 
would  forfeit  your  claims  to  the  sheltering  roof  of  your 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  34T 

childhood.  You  would  rob  yourself  of  the  minister 
ing  attentions  of  the  home  servants,  who  are  ever  more 
than  willing  to  pander  to  your  wants." 

"0,  My!  Are  you  attempting,  Prof.  Parsons,  to 
draw  a  picture  of  such  frightful  realities  as  will  scare 
me  from  my  resolution  ?  Are  you  trying  to  drive  me 
to  a  recantation  of  every  pledge  I  have  made  you?  " 

''  By  no  means,  my  dearest  Lunata.  I  am  only 
trying  to  view  the  question  we  have  before  us  from  the 
stand-points  of  genuine  honesty.  I  neither  want  to 
deceive  myself  nor  lead  you  to  take  a  step,  which, 
when  taken,  can  not  be  retraced ;  lest  you  may  dis 
cover,  when  too  late,  that  you  have  made  a  fatal 
mistake." 

"  Indeed,  Prof.  Parsons,  as  a  faithful  limner,  can 
your  brush  not  paint  a  brighter  side  to  your  picture  ? 
I  can  not  think  your  vision  is  so  narrow7  as  not  to  be 
able  to  discover  some  sunshine  amid,  or  beyond  so 
much  shadow.  Is  there  not  sunshine  somewhere 
along  the  road'over  which  you  propose  we  shall  travel?" 

"I  hope,  dearest,  there  is,  and  if  I  did  not  think 
there  was,  I  would  most  solemnly  protest  against 
taking  you  out  into  a  world  that  was  all  dark  and 
dreary.  But  it  is  my  honest  purpose  to  try  and  look 
at  all  sides  of  this  question,  that  neither  you  nor  I 
may  make  any  serious  blunders." 

"As  the  antithesis  of  what  I  have  presented,  you 
are  to  be  compensated  for  your  loss  of  the  comforts  of 
home  and  a  father's  blessing  by  the  devotional  love 
and  adoration  of  him  who  will  try  to  be  for  you  more 
than  all  these.  For  your  loss  of  wealth  in  money  and 
lands,  he  who  stands  in  your  presence,  will  bring  to  your 
keeping  a  heart  in  which  is  stored  a  wealth  of  devotion 


-348  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

that  can  neither  be  wasted,  lost,  nor  diminished.  For  the 
loss  of  the  comforts  of  affluence,  you  would  become 
the  partner  in  pleasures  and  delights  which  would  be 
an  inheritance  that  wealth  can  not  buy.  For  the  loss 
of  the  abundance  in  leaving  the  home  of  your  young 
womanhood,  you  would  have  enough,  and  that  enough 
would  be  sweetened  by  the  Heaven-inspired  song  of  hap 
piness  and  peace.  For  the  forfeiture  of  the  sheltering 
roof  of  your  girl-hood  life,  you  would  flj-  from  it  to 
seek  protection  where  love  abides  and  where  you  can 
find  shelter  in  these  arms  from  cruelty  and  injustice." 

"  Now  Prof.  Parsons  ;  you  seem  to  be  yourself  again. 
You  have  found  some  lights  with  which  to  set  off  the 
shadows  of  life,  and  I  now  desire  to  candidly  assure 
you  that  I  have  had  no  thought  of  finding  life  all 
flowers  and  no  thorns.  I  only  hope  I  may  have  the 
.good  judgment  and  grace  to  gather  what  iiowers  I  can 
in  the  journey  and  receive  but  few  wounds  from  the 
thorns." 

"My  dearest  Lunata;  your  calm  and  deliberate  way 
of  viewing  the  responsibility  which  you  are  proposing 
to  assume,  amazes  me,  and  I  now  swear,  with  my 
hand  stretched  Heavenward,  as  though  I  would  call 
the  region  of  the  blest  to  bear  solemn  attestation  to 
my  oath,  that  I  will  live  in  eternal  fidelity  to  my  every 
vow,  and  show  undeviating  fealty  to  my  every  promise, 
should  our  final  decision  of  this  question  bring  us 
together  as  one." 

"Turn  the  light  on  a  few  times  more,  Prof.  Parsons; 
and  I  will  feel  that  I  am  about  ready  to  start  now.  I 
am  sure  I  do  not  need  an}r  further  urging,  and  from  the 
way  you  now  talk  I  think  a  large  share  of  your  coward 
ice  will  soon  be  in  hiding." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  3491 

''  There  is  no  cowardice,  my  dearest  Lunata,  in  any 
thing  I  have  said.  It  is  honesty  that  sternly  demands 
that  all  sides  of  this  weighty  subject  should  be  consid 
ered.  I  confess  I  am  unable  to  make  any  side  of  it 
as  promisng  as  I  would  like  to  have  it.  The  risk  in 
this  matter  is  largely  yours.  My  part  of  the  hazard 
lies  in  the  danger  of  my  incapacity  to  fully  carry 
forward  my  intentions.  The  good  Lord  did  not  give 
me  a  big  physical  nature,  but  I  think  I  have  a  body 
that  is  built  of  good  material  and  well  put  together.  I 
am  clean  limbed,  active  and  stout  for  one  of  my 
weight.  I  have  a  large  share  of  ambition  and  aspire 
to  be  something  and  do  something  in  the  world.  I 
may  not  be  able  to  climb  very  high  on  the  rungs 
of  fame's  ladder,  but  you  may  rest  satisfied  that  I 
do  not  intend  to  stay  at  the  bottom.  I  think  I  have  a 
fair  share  of  common  sense  and  an  education  which,  if 
properly  handled,  will  enable  me  to  take  care  of  you 
first,  and  give  me  plentj'.  I  think  my  devotion  to  you 
will  ever  prompt  me  to  make  3rour  comfort  a  matter  of 
primary  importance.  I  believe,  furthermore,  that  my 
industry  will  always  make  me  an  earnest  worker, 
especially  when  I  have  weighing  upon  my  mind  the 
fact  that  a  dear,  good  girl  has  placed  herself  in  my 
keeping  for  weal  or  woe.  The  banner  which  I  shall 
carry  will  never  be  over-written  by  the  word  failure.  I 
intend  to  knuckle  to  no  discouragements,  nor  will  I 
bow  before  any  misfortune  unless  it  be  to  accident, 
disease  or  death.  I  have  now,  my  dear  Lunata,  given 
you  all  sides  of  my  picture,  and  presented  all  its 
phases  as  faithfully  and  honestly  as  in  my  power  lies. 
You  have  doubtless  contemplated  a  somewhat  similar 
picture  in  your  hours  of  quiet  reflection  and  have  now 


350  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

had  it  presented  fresh  from  my  own  solicitous  investi 
gation.  Tell  me,  dearest,  has  this  study  led  to  a 
change  in  your  resolution,  or  do  you  still  decide  to 
adhere  thereto,  and  risk  the  chances  for  success?" 

To  this  frank  and  manly  presentation  of  both  phases 
of  the  subject  which  had  been  under  discussion,  Miss 
Rowdon  made  a  calm,  yet  earnest  reply.  She  told 
Prof.  Parsons  that  her  decision  having  been  fully  made 
to  risk  the  step,  she  considered  his  venture  as  greater 
than  hers.  When  I  start  with  you,  you  will  take  under 
your  protecting  wing,  a  girl  who  is  without  expe 
rience,  in  very  much  which  is  needed  to  qualify  and  fit 
her  for  the  duties  of  a  wife — a  girl,  who,  if  she  were 
thrown  upon  her  own  resources,  would  be  a  very 
novice  in  almost  every  obligation  of  life.  With  my 
imperfections  I  believe  you  would  be  disposed  to  exer 
cise  patience,  and  I  will  trust  you  for  everything. 
Somewhere,  and  I  believe  not  far  away,  there  is  a  foun 
tain  whose  healing  power,  for  trouble  such  as  ours,  is 
a  better  specific  than  were  the  waters  of  the  ancient 
Judean  Bethesda  for  curing  bodily  afflictions.  We 
will  hunt  that  fountain,  and  although  no  angel  may  be 
present  to  trouble  the  waters  so  as  to  give  healing,  we 
wrill  know  that  Eros  has  recommended  the  waters 
whose  remedial  effects  we  seek,  and  we  will  step  in  and 
be  cured  of  the  pangs  which  anxiety  gives.  Yes, 
Prof.  Parsons,  I  think  the  only  remedy  we  can  find  is 
in  union,  and,  at  the  proper  time,  I  will  be  ready  to 
lay  my  sacred  offering  upon  the  altar  of  Apollo's  son. 
The  up's  and  down's — the  anxieties  and  fears — the 
fitful  flashes  of  a  brightening  hope  and  the  foreboding 
clouds  of  impending  uncertainty,  to  which  both  of  us 
have  been  exposed  for  quite  a  while,  have  well  nigh 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  351 

proven  too  much  for  my  physical  endurance.  I  am 
very  much  better  than  when  we  last  met,  still,  I  am,  by 
no  means,  well,  and  h?ve  probably  run  some  risk  in 
coming  out  today.  If  I  had  not  been  extremely  anx 
ious  to  see  you,  I  would  certainly  not  have  ventured 
out." 

"  Did  your  father  make  any  objection  to  your  attend 
ing  church  today?"  said  Parsons. 

' '  None  whatever, ' '  answered  Miss  Lunata  ;  ' '  and 
had  he  expressed  any  disapprobation  about  my  coming, 
I  think  it  would  have  been  because  I  was  not  well." 

"  Do  you  think  then  that  the  suspicions  of  your 
father  have  been  to  any  extent  allayed?  " 

"I  do,"  said  she,  "  and  such  a  result  has  been  due 
to  the  adroit  course  pursued  by  Charles  Kirtland.  Alf 
Watson,  as  I  understand  the  matter,  is  playing  into 
Charlie's  hand,  and  is  completely  under  his  control. 
Any  and  every  thing  that  Alf  knows,  and  is  carrying 
around  with  him  as  a  supposed  secret,  you  may  find 
out  by  inquiry  from  Charlie." 

"  I  am  keeping  posted  along  that  line,"  said  Parsons. 
"There  is  a  distinct  understanding  between  Kirtland 
and  myself  as  to  the  course  he  is  to  pursue,  and 
what  he  is  now  doing  to  hood-wink  Alf  Watson, 
is  only  carrying  forward  plans  which  had  been  pre 
viously  agreed  upon.  The  execution  of  these  plans 
have  so  worked  as  to  disarm,  measurably,  the  sus 
picion  of  your  father,  and  have  quieted  the  jealousy  of 
Munson.  This  is  a  matter  of  special  pleasure  to  me. 
It  at  least  gives  us  a  modicum  of  rest,  and  has  doubt 
less  opened  the  way  for  your  attending  church  today. 

"  By  the  way;  suppose  your  father  had  entered  an 


352  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

objection  to  your  coming  out  today,   what  would  you 
have  done  ?  " 

"  Like  a  good  girl,"  said  Lunata,  "I  would  have 
submitted — uncomplainingly  submitted,  and  would 
have  concealed  from  him  the  bitterness  of  my  disap 
pointment.  One  positive  prohibitory  order  would  have 
been  sufficient.  As  long  as  I  remain  under  the  pater 
nal  roof,  I  shall  remain  the  subject  of  paternal  control, 
except  in  matters  which  involve  my  conscience.  Had 
my  father  had  any  idea  that  my  wanting  to  attend 
church  this  morning  was  prompted  by  a  desire  and 
expectation  of  meeting  you,  his  estoppal  upon  my  going 
would  have  been  mandatory,  and  more  positive  than 
polite." 

"My  father,  Prof.  Parsons,  has  been  accustomed  to 
having  everything  on  his  premises  yield  a  ready  obedi 
ence  to  his  every  command.  No  one  of  our  entire 
household  has  ever  thought  of  lifting  an  objection  to 
his  wishes.  He  has  always  been  looked  up  to  as  a 
wise  counselor  and  a  most  liberal  provider  for  every 
want.  He  has  been  patient,  and  has  never  refused  to 
humor  our  whims  or  smypathize  with  us  in  our  childish 
troubles.  To  have  his  oldest  daughter  array  herself 
in  open  revolt  against  his  cherished  purpose  in  regard 
to  her  matrimonial  choice,  has  therefore  been  a  matter 
of  very  serious  concern  to  him.  He  seems  to  have  a 
fixed  idea  that  his  wishes  be  complied  with,  in  refer 
ence  to  the  man  with  whom  I  am  to  consort,  just  as 
readily,  as  I  would  yield  submission  to  any  other  wish 
which  he  might  make.  I  have  no  hesitancy  in  believ 
ing  he  thinks  that  he  has  a  perfect  moral  right  to 
dictate  with  whom  I  must  wed.  I  think  very  differ 
ently.  Had  I  been  brought  up  in  the  Orient,  where 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  353 

women  are  reared  to  be  disposed  of  at  public  vendue 
to  turbaned  Turks,  I  might  entertain  entirely  different 
views  as  to  a  woman's  personal  obligations.  But  with 
my  surroundings ;  with  my  views  of  what  is  right ; 
with  my  knowledge  of  my  country's  correct  practices, 
I  am  sure  that  I,  at  least,  ought  to  be  consulted  as  to 
whom  my  heart  and  hand  should  be'  bound  by  matri 
monial  ties.  So  deeply  am  I  impressed  with  this  right 
that,  under  no  circumstances,  could  I  be  induced  or 
coerced  to  violate,  in  so  important  a  matter,  what  I 
conceive  to  be  a  conscientious  duty." 

''The  vexed  and  much-discussed  question  is  now 
settled,"  said  Parsons.  A  new  problem  is,  in  conse 
quence  of  this  settlement,  at  once  sprung  upon  us  and 
is  demanding  a  solution.  We  must  now  go  further 
and  decide,  as  to  the  time,  when  we  will  embark  upon 
a  trip  that  will  land  us  in  the  port  of  wedlock,  wherein 
we  will  cast  anchor  only  long  enough  to  get  our 
passports,  and  then,  weighing  anchor,  set  sail  upon  a 
sea  which  is  new  and  untried.  0,  my  dear  girl !  may 
old  Neptune  rock  gently  our  craft,  and  help  us  to  steer 
clear  of  the  breakers  upon  which  so  many  life-boats 
have  foundered  ! 

''  This  is  an  issue,  Miss  Lunata,  we  can  not  dodge. 
It  must  be  met,  and  the  sooner  it  is  met,  the  sooner 
will  the  quietude  of  contentment  nestle  about  us.  I 
would  not,  of  course,  urge  an  immediate  decision. 
The  present  is  no  time,  nor  is  this  the  place,  to  weigh, 
and  report  upon  something  of  such  vital  importance 
to  both  of  us.  The  final  answer,  in  this  matter,  is 
left  wholly  with  you.  That  ample  time  be  allowed,  in 
which  you  may  reach  a  satisfactory  conclusion,  we 

WHAT  NEXT? — 28. 


354  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

will  appoint  some  future  meeting,  at  which  your 
answer  can  be  made  known.  In  the  meantime,  I  will 
keep  you  advised  in  regard  to  such  things  as  I  may 
deem  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  the  sending  of 
a  letter  t^  you." 

Just  as  this  promise  was  made,  it  was  observed  that 
the  congregation  had  been  dismissed,  and  that  the 
audience  was  emerging  from  the  different  doors.  Par 
sons  at  once  went  to  the  door  from  which  Miss  Lunata 
had  made  her  exit,  and  as  soon  as  the  young  lady  who 
had  accompanied  her  to  church  made  her  appearance, 
he  escorted  the  two  to  where  the  servant  was  holding 
their  horses.  He  saw  each  of  them  in  their  saddles, 
and  bidding  him  good  by  they  rode  away,  and  were 
soon  lost  to  his  view. 

As  soon  as  the  young  ladies  were  out  of  his  sight, 
Parsons  went  to  where  his  own  horse  was  hitched,  arid 
mounting  him,  he  too  was  soon  on  his  way  homeward. 
He  was  happier  and  more  elated  than  he  had  been  for 
many  a  daj7,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  exuberant  joy,  he 
repeated  a  couplet  from  Erin's  bard  and  repeated  it 
aloud — 

Oh  !  what  was  love  made  for,  if  'tis  not  the  same 

Thro'  joy,  aud  through  torments,  thro'  glory  and  shame? 

Just  at  this  moment  Kirtland,  who  had  rode  up  by 
the  side  of  his  teacher  unobserved  by  him,  asked  upon 
what  subject  he  was  soliloquising,  and  Parsons  having 
given  him  an  evasive  answer,  Kirtland  remarked  that 
he  had  but  a  few  hours  ago  made  a  gleaning  which  had 
brought  to  light  some  facts  which  he  thought  were  of 
importance  to  him,  and  that  he  had  hurried  his  horse 
to  a  better  speed,  that,  overtaking  him,  he  might  com 
municate  them  to  him  before  he  reached  his  boarding- 
house. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  355 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  said  Prof.  Parsons  ;  "  I  am  about 
ready  for  anything  now,  unless  it  be  imprisonment." 

Kirtland  informed  his  teacher  that  there  had  been  a 
very  material  change  made  in  the  Rowdon  program ; 
that  he  did  not  think  there  was  any  fresh  outbreak  of 
suspicion,  unless  it  was  with  Munson,  but  that  he 
had  learned  from  Alf.  Watson  that  there  was  to  be 
instituted  a  new  line  of  proceeding  in  regard  to  the 
case  of  his  teacher.  That  Rowdon,  Munson  and  Co. 
having  utterly  failed  in  their  effort  to  stir  up  a  preju 
dice  against  him  that  would  result  in  his  resigning  his 
place  in  the  neighbood  as  teacher,  and  a  consequent 
relinquishment  of  all  claims  upon  the  community,  as 
well  as  a  final  self-banishment  from  the  neighborhood, 
they  had  now  resolved  to  try  to  draw  him  into  a  per 
sonal  difficulty  with  one  or  the  other  of  the  men 
named.  From  what  he  had  learned,  he  said  he 
thought  it  was  understood  that  Alf  Watson  was  to 
make  the  attack,  and  that  Parsons  was  to  be  roundly 
abused  by  him  for  some  charge  that  would  be  trumped 
up  for  the  occasion.  If  this  insult  was  resented,  he  was 
to  be  drawn  into  a  personal  rencounter  with  Watson 
Kirtland  further  informed  Parsons  that  Munson  was 
stooping  to  the  low  and  debasing  use  of  outspoken 
misrepresentations  in  order  to  create  a  sentiment  of 
ill-will  against  the  man  of  whom  he  was  jealous. 

When  these  facts  were  communicated  to  Parsons  he 
was  almost  dazed  at  the  audacity  which  led  to  such 
bitter  and  unjustifiable  persecution.  It  lessened  and 
lowered  his  opinion  of  humanity,  especially  that  por 
tion  of  it  who,  with  jaundiced  eyes  and  corrupted 
minds,  were  willing  to  crush  the  hopes  and  murder  the 
prospects  of  an  unoffending  and  industrious  worker 


356  WHAT    NEXT?   OR 

for  a  living  and  a  name.  He  felt  humiliated  that  he 
should  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  people  in  the 
community  who  knew  nothing  of  justice,  and  who 
were  willing  to  resort  to  the  foulest  of  means  to  accom 
plish  that  which  honest  dealing  failed  to  achieve. 
But  there  was  comfort  and  consolation  for  the  young 
Professor  in  the  thought  that  the  almost  unanimous 
voice  of  the  communitj7  was  loud  in  its  commendation 
and  praise  of  him  and  his  work.  The  more  especial 
source  of  gratification  to  him  was  the  knowledge  that 
there  was  one  noble  spirit,  not  far  away,  the  pulsations 
of  whose  heart  beat  in  sympathy  with  his,  and  whose 
arm,  if  in  her  power,  would  be  for  him  a  shield  and 
buckler  too. 

Such  was  the  train  ot  thoughts  that  ran  through  the 
mind  of  Parsons  immediately  upon  the  reception  of 
the  news  which  Kirtland  had  communicated.  They 
passed,  however,  without  leaving  a  mark  of  anger  upon 
his  face,  and  he  quietty  advised  Kirtland  to  keep  the 
whole  of  what  he  had  repeated  to  him  as  a  secret 
between  them  only,  and  cautioned  him  to  continue  his 
watchfulness,  and  to  be  ever  on  the  alert.  He  directed 
him  to  gather  all  the  additional  information  he  could, 
and  assured  Charlie  that  he  believed  the  perfidious 
plans  which  were  being  matured  for  his  downfall  might 
yet  be  forstalled. 

Parsons  informed  Kirtland  that,  in  the  meantime,  he 
would  procure  an  excellent  pair  of  duelling  pistols 
to  be  used  only  in  case  of  an  emergency.  That  if 
he  did  not  know  exactly  what  that  meant,  he  would 
explain  it  for  him ,  Speaking  in  a  rather  resolute  style 
Parsons  said  :  "I  simply  mean  this.  You  have  stated 
that  I  am  to  be  abused,  and  that  Alf.  Watson  is  prob- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  357 

ably  the  party  who  has  been  appointed  to  discharge 
that  duty.  Hear  me  please.  I  do  not  intend  to  allow 
him  or  am*  one  else  to  abuse  me.  I  have  done  nothing 
worthy  of  abuse,  and  even  if  I  had,  I. am  sure  I  would 
never  allow  my  chastisement  to  be  meted  out  by  the 
hands  of  a  fool.  I  do  not  intend  to  allow  any  man  to 
try  to  draw  me  into  a  personal  encounter  with  him 
without  defiantly  resenting  it.  Watson  will  weigh 
nearly  twice  what  I  do.  In  a  personal  combat,  without 
arms,  I  suppose  he  would  be  more  than  my  match ; 
but,  even  if  we  were  of  equal  size  and  weight,  I  would 
feel  it  to  be  a  degradation  to  enter  into  a  fisticuff  with 
a  man  who  has  shown  himself  to  be  an  unprincipled 
ruffian.  I  am  a  moderately  fair  shot,  but  will  rub  up  a 
little  in  the  use  of  such  fire-arms  as  I  would  use  in 
case  of  necessity.  By  a  little  careful  practice  (while  I 
can  hardlj*  say  that  I  apprehend  any  danger)  I  will 
put  myself  in  trim  to  hurt  Watson  if  I  can,  provided 
he  is  not  extremely  careful  what  he  says,  and  how  he 
says  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  take  any  advantage  of  him, 
and,  if  it  comes  in  the  way,  you  can  say  to  him,  that 
if  he  undertakes  to  humiliate  me — to  drag  me  into 
a  personal  rencounter  with  him,  I  will  surely  kill  him 
if  I  can." 

"I  would  certainly  sorely  regret,  Prof.  Parsons,  to 
see  you  get  into  any  difficulty,"  said  Kirtland,  "  but  I 
am  persuaded  there  is  a  conspiracy  at  work  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  that  the  conspirators  are  leaving  no 
device  untried  in  order  to  compass  their  desires.  Tt 
has  become  very  evident  to  me,  within  the  last  few 
days,  that  the  entire  Watson  family  have  been  drawn 
into  the  ranks  of  the  traducers  of  your  good  name. 
Alf.  is  the  oldest  son  of  the  family,  and  the  only  one 


358  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

who  has  ever  secured  employment  from  home,  and  the 
rest  of  the  household  are  disposed  to  regard  him  as  the 
ornamental  hero  of  the  Watson  household.  It  is 
the  baneful  influence  which  he  has  exerted  in  the 
family  that  has  wrought  this  change. 

"  He  wants  their  influence  in  helping  to  down  }TOU," 
said  Kirtland,  "  and  is  willing  to  sacrifice  the  good 
name  they  have  long  borne  in  the  neighborhood  rather 
than  fail  to  please  his  employer  who  really  looks  upon 
him  with  scorn,  because  of  the  contemptuous  work  to 
which  he  has  temporarily  sold  himself." 

"  What  you  say,  Charlie  Kirtland,  may  be  all  correct, 
and  most  likely  is  ;  but  it  will  take  time  to  unravel 
very  much  that  has  been  connected  with  the  ordeal 
through  which  I  am  being  passed.  It  is  severe,  but  I 
think  I  can  stand  it — it  is  trying,  but  for  the  sake  of 
her  who  is  to  be  the  prize  which  integrity  and  honor 
able  deportment  is  trying  to  win,  I  have  confidence  in 
my  ultimate  success.  Be  you  careful,  Charlie,  to  keep 
as  a  profound  secret  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  with 
the  exception  of  what  I  told  you,  might  be  communi 
cated  by  you  to  Alf  Watson.  Keep  an  eye  on  the  move 
ments,  and  an  ear  open  to  the  comments  of  the  whole 
Watson  family.  Catch  any  criticism  they  may  make, 
if  3rou  can,  in  regard  to  what  I  have  recently  been 
doing,  as  well  as  what  the}'  ma}"  have  to  say  about 
what  I  am  now  doing.  I  had  hoped  there  would  not 
arise  an  immediate  necessity  for  my  leaving  the  Wat 
son  home  before  the  expiration  of  my  school  session, 
but  I  am  somewhat  apprehensive  that  Alf  has  so  prej 
udiced  the  other  members  of  the  family  against  me, 
that  to  remain  would  be  unpleasant  for  me,  and  there 
fore  make  it  necessary  that  I  should  hunt  boarding 
with  some  one  else  among  my  patrons." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  359 

"  By  the  way,  Prof.  Parsons,  there  is  another  thing 
that  I  ought  perhaps  to  have  mentioned  to  you.  It  is 
seemingly  a  very  small  matter,  but  small  matters 
sometimes  contain  kernels  that  may  grow  into  some 
thing  very  important/' 

"A  few  evenings  ago  Mrs.  Watson  indulged  in  a 
rather  carping  criticism  about  a  conversation  which 
took  place  between  you  and  her,  something  near  two 
months  since.  She  stated  that  inasmuch  as  the 
report  had  become  somewhat  current  that  you  were 
visiting  Miss  Rowdon  with  a  serious  purpose  in  view, 
and  furthermore,  that  having  become  apprised  of  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Rowdon  had  grown  uneasy  because  of 
your  attentions  to  his  daughter,  she  had  thought  it 
advisable  that  she  notify  you  of  the  fact.  That  she 
did  so  ;  whereupon  you  had  replied  by  stating  that  Mr. 
Henry  Rowdon  need  give  himself  no  unnecessary 
trouble  in  regard  to  your  stealing  his  daughter ;  that 
there  were  too  many  good-looking  and  worthy  girls  in 
this  country,  that  you  could  get,  without  the  necessity 
of  purloining  one  of  his,  even  if  you  wanted  a  wife 
ever  so  badly ;  and  that  you  had  requested  her,  as  a 
matter  of  favor  to  you,  to  get  her  husband  to  incident 
ally  mention  what  you  had  said  to  Mr.  Rowdon,  if  a 
favorable  opportunity  offered,  and  thereby  quiet  his 
apprehensions  in  regard  to  the  danger  of  having  a  pil 
ferer  to  rob  him  of  his  daughter.  She  stated  that 
nothing  more  took  place  between  you  and  her  with 
reference  to  Miss  Rowdon,  until  last  Sunday  afternoon  ; 
but  that  you  reached  home  a  little  after  the  usual  dinner 
hour,  and  she  and  you  were  seated  at  the  dining  table, 
when  you  again  brought  up  the  subject  of  Mr.  Row- 
don's  fears,  and  that  you  asked  her  if  she  had  made 


360  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

known  your  request  to  her  husband  about  what  you 
wanted  him  to  say  to"  Mr.  Rowdon  in  regard  to  the 
possibility  of  his  losing  Miss  Lunata  by  theft.  That 
she  told  you  she  had  not ;  and  that  thereupon  you  had 
said  to  her,  you  wished  to  recall  that  request,  claiming 
that  you  were  under  no  obligation  whatever  to  act  as 
an  agent  in  helping  to  quiet  Mr.  Rowdon's  fears.  She 
further  stated,  that  Mr.  Watson,  Sr.,  at  the  time  the 
last  conversation  took  place  between  her  and  you,  was 
lying  upon  a  sofa  in  the  far  end  of  the  dining-room, 
and  without  your  being  cognizant  of  his  presence,  had 
heard  all  of  the  last  conversation,  at  the  close  of 
which  you  reiterated  your  statement  about  your  acting 
as  his  accommodating  agent,  and  added,  that  Mr. 
Rowdon's  conduct  towards  you  had  been  of  such  a 
character  as  to  banish  any  desire  that  you  might 
hitherto  have  had  to  gratify  him,  -or  ease  his  mind  in 
regard  to  the  loss  of  his  daughter  by  any  act  of  yours." 

"Whether  there  is  any  importance  to  be  attached  to 
this  colloquy  between  you  and  Mrs.  Watson  or  not.  I 
do  not  know,  but  I  was  surprised  when  I  learned  today 
that  your  second  conversation  had  been  carried,  within 
two  hours  after  it  took  place,  straight  to  Mr.  Rowdon's 
ears." 

"While  Mrs.  Watson  was  telling  me  what  you  said 
to  her,  it  became  evident  to  me  that  her  feelings 
towards  you  had  undergone  a  very  great  change,  and  I 
therefore  supposed  your  conclusion,  with  reference  to 
the  strained  relations  between  you  and  the  Watson 
family,  were  altogether  correct." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Kirtland,"  said  Prof.  Parsons, 
"that  the  clouds  are  thickening  about  me — that  they 
hang  lower  and  more  turbulently  threatening — that 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  361 

they  are  ominously  foreboding.  Well,  be  it  so.  By 
the  power  of  Him  who  is  the  author  of  justice,  wrong 
must  not,  can  not  triumph.  This  right  arm,  if  need 
be,  must  disperse  the  overhanging  gloom,  and  unless  I 
underrate  my  own  resolution,  those  clouds  can  not 
hang  long  where  they  now  are.  I  will  try  to  curb  my 
impulsiveness  and  practice  prudence  and  caution.  I 
feel  confident  that,  before  the  waxing  and  waning  of 
many  more  moons,  my  horizon  will  be  cleared  and 
there  will  dawn  upon  me  the  light  of  a  brighter 
life." 

The  two  young  men  having  reached  their  boarding- 
house,  the  subject  of  their  conversation  was  brought 
to  a  close ;  and  their  horses  being  turned  into  the 
hands  of  a  servant,  each  of  the  young  men  repaired  to 
his  room  and  underwent  the  usual  ablutions  prepara 
tory  to  taking  his  dinner.  In  the  dining-room  Prof. 
Parsons  wore  his  accustomed  pleasant  face,  and,  from 
his  manner,  no  one  would  have  supposed  that  there 
throbbed  in  his  bosom  a  troubled  heart.  Neither  his 
usual  affability  nor  his  grace  of  manner  forsook  him. 
He  participated  in  the  general  running  conversation  as 
though  no  shadow  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  that 
home  to  blight  his  pleasure.  After  dinner  he  again 
went  to  his  room,  and  amid  the  mental  shadows  that 
hovered  around  him  he  anxiously  asked  himself — 
What  Next  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"  From  cloud  to  cloud  the  rending  lightnings  rage; 
Till,  hi  the  furious  elemental  war 
Dlssolv'd,  the  whole  precipitated  mass 
Unbroken  floods  and  solid  torrents  pour." 

— Thompson. 

HERE  was  one  member  of  the  Watson  family 
whom  Prof.  Parsons  saw  comparatively  little  of. 
As  said  in  a  former  part  of  this  writing,  she  was 
attending  a  boarding  school  in  a  neighboring 
town  and,  although  she  came  home  on  Friday  evening  of 
each  week,  her  time  of  home-coming  generally  coin 
cided  with  the  time  he  was  leaving  his  boarding-place 
to  find  company  and  pleasure  somewhere  else.  Still, 
as  he  did  not  leave  home  with  the  close  of  his  every 
week's  work,  he  had,  in  that  way,  become  quite  well 
acquainted  with  Miss  Ida  Watson.  She  was  younger 
than  her  sister  Miss  Lena — was  very  much  handsomer 
and,  for  a  number  of  reasons,  very  much  more  attrac 
tive.  From  the  time  that  she  and  Prof.  Parsons  came 
to  know  each  other  quite  well,  she  was  quite  fond  of 
his  company  and  made  no  effort  to  disguise  that  fact. 
In  speaking  of  him  to  visitors,  as  well  as  to  her  asso 
ciates  generally,  he  was  always  complimented  for  his 
genial  disposition,  for  his  uniform  politeness,  and  for 
his  unusual  intelligence.  Through  the  influence  which 
Miss  Ida  wielded  in  the  Watson  home,  especially  with 
her  mother,  there  was  a  suppression  of  what  would 
otherwise  have  been  a  plainer  exhibition  of  the  family's 
unkind  feelings  towards  Prof.  Parsons.  Indeed  there 
was  no  telling  how  far  the  influence  of  Miss  Ida  was 
made  potent  in  holding  in  check  the  threatened  trouble 
between  her  eldest  brother  and  the  young  teacher. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  363 

It  is  strangely  curious  how  personal  influence  works ; 
whether  we  consider  its  workings  in  the  species  of  infe 
rior  animals,  or  in  man.  In  man  this  influence  is 
more  perceptible  than  in  any  of  the  species  below  him, 
and  is  possibly  less  and  less  perceptible  as  we  climb  down 
the  scale  of  animated  nature.  All  gregarious  animals 
especially,  exhibit  what  we  call  influence  in  man.  The 
simple  fact  that  they  flock  or  herd  together  is  through 
the  influence  which  one  has  with  another.  The  stam 
peding  of  a  herd  of  cattle,  or  the  disastrous  flight  of  a 
drove  of  horses  is  proof  that  there  is  an  inexplicable 
something  which  sets  the  multitude  in  motion  and  I 
call  it  influence.  Do  you  say  it  is  fear;  then  how  does 
it  come  that  all  are  frightened  at  the  same  moment  ? 

The  plain  truth  is,  that  judgment  is  too  often 
silenced  in  the  presence  of  an  influence  which  is  exer 
cised  under  the  potent  pressure  of  a  corrupt  prejudice. 
This  was  true  in  the  Watson  case.  The  judgment  of 
that  family,  if  left  uninfluenced  by  the  corrupt  and 
depraved  conduct  of  the  eldest  son,  would  have  given 
an  unqualified  statement  that  Prof.  Parsons  was  a 
gentleman,  in  the  very  best  sense  of  that  word. 

As  proof  of  this  being  the  way  that  an  evil  influence 
may  corrupt  and  alter  the  judgment  of  a  family,  it 
need  only  be  said  that  in  the  first  conversation  between 
Prof.  Parsons  and  Mrs.  Watson,  in  regard  to  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon's  objection  to  having  the  young  teacher  as  a 
suitor  for  his  daughter's  hand,  Mrs.  Watson,  in  that 
conversation,  was  quite  severe  upon  the  injustice  and 
avarice  of  her  neighbor  Rowdon,  while,  in  the  second 
conversation,  as  she  reported  it  to  Kirtland,  she  was 
full  of  censure  against  Parsons  for  interrupting  the 
arrangements  which  Mr.  Rowdon  had  made  for  dis- 


364  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

posing  of  the  affections  of  Miss  Lunata.  But  for  the 
fact  that  her  oldest  son  had  become  an  important 
factor,  in  the  management  of  Miss  Rowdon's  love 
matters,  as  his  mother  thought,  the  case  in  hand 
would  be  strange  beyond  explaining. 

Somebody  once  said  that,  "a  poor  excuse  is  better 
than  no  excuse"  and  it  was  hung  up  among  our 
national  adages.  Thousands  have  used  it  since  its 
first  utterance,  in  explaining  delinquencies  and  trying 
to  satisfy  the  qualms  of  a  conscience  that  had  been 
disturbed  by  some  doubtful  action.  This  must  have 
been  true  in  the  case  of  the  Watsons.  The  general 
verdict  of  that  family  up  to  the  time  that  Alf.  Watson 
put  in  an  appearance  under  a  new  role,  and  was  pro 
moted  from  an  unemployed  and  ignorant  civilian's 
position  to  that  of  chief  spy  in  the  pay  of  farmer 
Rowdon,  was  that  Parsons  was  a  polite  and  high-toned 
gentleman,  and  that  he  had  conducted  the  best  school, 
by  large  odds,  that  had  been  taught  in  that  part  of 
the  county. 

Suddenly,  yes,  just  as  soon  as  the  announcement 
had  been  made  of  Alf 's.  promotion,  the  still  hunt  began 
for  finding  some  excuse  to  urge  against  Parsons'  system 
of  teaching.  Watson's  younger  children,  like  the 
older  boys,  were  very  dull,  and  while  their  progress 
WPS  slow,  it  was  better  by  far  than  it  had  ever  been 
under  any  former  teacher  ;  still  these  children  were,  to 
the  amusement  of  almost  everybody  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  brought  forward  as  an  excuse  for  the  opposition 
which  had  so  recently  developed  against  Prof.  Parsons 
as  a  teacher.  The  more  astute  critics  were  not  slow 
in  discovering  that  the  objections  filed  against  the 
teacher,  by  the  Watsons,  were  presented  for  the  pur- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  365 

pose  of  pleasing  Mr.  Rowdon.  They  supposed  Row- 
don  only  wanted  an  excuse  for  coming  out  boldly 
against  Prof.  Parsons  as  a  teacher,  which  he  had  not 
yet  done,  and  the  Watsons  proposed  to  help  him  do 
so  by  their  complaints. 

While  the  Watson  family  were  maturing  the  adop 
tion  of  means  whereby  the  members  thereof  could 
singly  and  collectively  give  apparent  importance  to  the 
sinister  work  to  which  Alf.  had  been  appointed  by  Mr. 
Rowdon,  it  was  a  noted  fact,  that  Miss  Ida  Watson 
arrayed  herself  in  open  hostility  to  the  course  the  rest 
of  the  household  was  pursuing  in  regard  to  the  affairs 
of  Prof.  Parsons.  She  boldly  asserted  that  they  were 
making  themselves  more  conspicuous  as  meddlers — 
busy-bodies  in  matters  of  no  importance  to  them  than 
justice  would  warrant.  She  defiantly  assured  her 
father,  that  she  had  a  far  higher  appreciation  of  the 
friendship  and  good  will  of  Prof.  Parsons  than  she  had 
for  the  meager  share  of  either,  which  Mr.  Rowdon  had 
to  bestow.  What  does  he  care  about  you  or  yours  ? 
If  he  can  get  the  better  of  you  in  a  trade,  you  know 
from  experience  that  he  has  no  scruples  of  conscience 
even  in  dealing  with  you  as  his  neighbor.  What  if  he 
has  employed  Alf.  as  his  spy?  Should  the  pitiful 
wages  which  he  receives  for  what  he  is  doing  buy  all 
the  Watsons  and  put  them  to  spying  too?  She  told 
her  father  that  his  espousal  of  Mr.  Rowdon's  trouble 
would  result  in  no  good  to  any  one,  but  might  eventu 
ate  in  harm  to  Prof.  Parsons,  whom  she  regarded  as  a 
gentlemen,  and  above  reproach.  In  this  way  did  the 
daughter  speak  of  the  flimsy  pretext  upon  which  her 
father's  prejudice  was  based,  and  in  this  way  did  she 
show  her  superior  reasoning,  as  compared  with  that  of 
her  father. 


366  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day,  subsequent  to  the 
one  on  which  Kirtland  had  made  known  to  Parsons 
the  purposes  of  his  persecutors,  he  ordered  his  horse 
and  without  intimating  to  any  one  where  he  was  going, 
or  when  he  would  return,  he  rode  away.  After  the 
family  had  retired  for  the  night  he  returned,  and 
having  put  his  horse  in  his  accustomed  stall,  went 
directly  to  his  room.  Lighting  a  candle,  he  unbuckled 
a  concealed  belt  from  about  his  waist  containing  a 
pair  of  fine  dueling  pistols — laid  them  upon  his  table 
— put  himself  in  his  sleeping  apparel — blew  out  the 
candle  and  retired  for  the  night. 

Before  sunrise  on  the  following  morning  the  Profes 
sor  was  up  and  restlessly  paced  back  and  forth  across 
his  room  till  called  to  breakfast.  While  partaking  of 
the  morning  meal,  he  betrayed  no  unusual  emotion — 
no  noticeable  excitement  whatever.  He  conversed  in 
his  usual  fluent  and  agreeable  style,  and,  even  the 
closest  observer  could  not  have  discovered  that  he  was 
disturbed  by  anything  that  was  weighing  heavily  upon 
his  mind. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  he  passed  up  to  his 
room — made  some  changes  in  his  dress — buckled  his 
belt  of  arms  about  him,  and  calling  to  Kirtland  to- 
know  if  he  was  ready,  and  that  young  gentleman 
joining  him,  the  two  started  for  school.  On  the  way,, 
the  subject  which  had  been  the  chief  theme  for  their 
recent  talks  was  called  up,  but  comparatively  little 
was  said.  There  had  been  no  new  developments  in 
the  Rowdon  case,  as  far  as  either  of  them  had  discov 
ered,  although  Parsons  said  he  had  been  on  the  lookout, 
and  Kirtland  declared  he  had  been  using  his  inquiry- 
pump  upon  Alf.  Watson. 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  367 

Upon  closing  the  school  for  the  day,  instead  of  going 
immediately  home,  as  was  his  custom,  Parsons  sought 
a  sequestered  spot  in  a  lonely  ravine  upon  a  neighboring 
farm,  and,  amid  the  concealment  furnished  by  the 
dense  foliage  of  the  trees,  began  his  pistol  practice. 
This  he  kept  up  until  the  gray  of  the  coming  night 
rendered  the  light  too  dim  for  him  to  make  any  head 
way  in  improving  his  marksmanship.  Evening  after 
evening  this  practice  was  kept  up  for  nearly  a  week, 
and  as  Alf.  Watson  noticed  that  the  Professor  whom 
he  had  been  hired  to  watch  was  not  coming  home  at 
his  usual  hour,  he  determined  to  ascertain  what  he  was 
doing  each  day  from  the  close  of  his  school  work  until 
nightfall.  Alf.  therefore  put  himself  upon  the  track 
and  followed  Parsons  at  such  a  distance  as  not  to  be- 
observed  by  the  latter,  and  found  that  he  was  shelter 
ing  himself  from  sight  and  was  practicing  pistol 
shooting  in  the  ravine  previously  mentioned.  Alf. 
stole  up  as  close  as  he  thought  he  could  venture  and 
watched  every  movement  which  Parsons  made,  until  he 
saw  him  encase  his  pistols,  button  the  cases  to  their  belt 
and  then  turn  and  walk  away.  Considering  himself 
interested,  to  a  small  extent,  in  the  expertness  of  the 
shooting  to  which  he  had  been  a  hidden  witness,  he 
waited  till  Parsons  was  well  out  of  sight,  and  then 
walked  to,  and  examined  the  board  which  had  been 
fastened  to  the  side  of  a  large  tree,  and  about  five  feet 
from  the  ground.  Upon  examination  of  the  board 
which  was  about  fourteen  inches  square,  he  found  that 
the  practicing  marksman,  had  kept  a  kind  of  tally  of 
his  shooting.  Upon  his  first  day's  practice,  into  every 
hole  where  a  ball  had  entered  he  had  thrust  a  peg  and 
marked  it  with  the  figure  1.  In  his  second  day'&. 


368  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

shooting,  when  he  was  through,  he  put  a  peg  in  each 
ball-hole  and  marked  each  with  the  figure  2.  Every 
day's  skill  in  handling  that  kind  of  fire-arms  was 
thus  registered,  and  Alf.  Watson  learned  that  Parsons 
was  a  marksman  whose  shooting  would  make  him  a 
dangerous  man  to  encounter  in  a  duel  with  pistols. 

On  the  following  morning  Alf.  asked  Charlie  Kirtland 
if  he  knew  why  Parsons  had  been  engaged  for  a  num 
ber  of  evenings  in  practicing  pistol  shooting.  To  this 
Kirtland  responded  by  saying  that  he  did  not  know 
that  his  teacher  had  been  so  doing,  and  asked  Alf  if 
his  information  in  regard  to  the  matter  was  reliable. 
Alf  answered  very  promptly  that  his  information 
ought  to  be  considered  reliable,  as  all  the  evidence 
was  furnished  by  his  own  eyes. 

Inasmuch  as  you  have  asked  me  why  Prof.  Parsons 
is  thus  engaged  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  afternoon,  I 
will  answer  your  question  by  stating  that  he  surmises 
that  there  is  a  combined  effort,  or  a  sort  of  conspiracy, 
upon  the  part  of  a  certain  set  of  people  in  this  local 
ity  to  crowd  him  to  the  wall,  or,  in  other  words,  to 
make  it  so  very  unpleasant  for  him  as  to  render  it 
almost  absolutely  necessary  that  he  should  abandon 
his  school  and  quit  the  neighborhood.  Indeed,  said 
he  to  Alf,  threats  have  been  made  against  him,  as  I, 
myself'  can  testify.  Possibly  these  threats  have 
reached  his  ears,  and  he  is  threfore  trying  his  hand,  to 
see  what  it  could  do  in  case  an  emergency  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  defend  himself.  But,  as  we  have 
that  subject  up,  Alf,  I  have  this  much  to  say,  and 
would  like  to  emphasize  what  I  do  say.  I  know  Prof. 
Parsons  better  than  any  of  you.  I  have  known  him 
longer  and  more  intimately  than  any  of  you.  I  want 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  369 

therefore  to  assure  you  that  if  there  is  to  be  an  effort 
made  to  coerce  him  into  measures  of  any  kind  what 
ever,  the  party  who  undertakes  to  work  that  game  will 
run  a  serious  and  dangerous  risk.  This  I  know.  I 
saw  an  effort  made  to  mistreat  him  once  in  his  history, 
and  the  man  who  undertook  the  job  was  made  to 
"  take  water,"  as  the  saying  goes,  like  he  was  used  to 
it.  My  advice,  be  it  worth  much  or  little,  to  any  one 
who  expects  to  scare  him — to  get  the  advantage  of 
him  by  reason  of  a  bigger  share  of  corporeal  strength 
— to  insult  him  without  paying  a  big  penalty  for  his 
temerity,  or  to  undertake  to  drive  him,  had  better 
study  him  a  little  more,  and  thereby  be  the  better  able 
to  compute  the  cost.  The  party  who  attacks  him 
may,  by  getting  the  advantage  of  him,  kill  him,  but 
advantage  or  no  advantage,  he  will  never  be  scared. 
I  have  seen  Prof.  Parsons'  metal  put  to  the  test  in 
more  ways  than  one,  and  his  gentlemanly  pluck  never 
forsook  him.  He  is  peaceable,  as  you  well  know,  but 
the  man  who  presumes  that  he  can  run  over  him,  or 
humiliate  him,  and  is  willing  to  try  it,  had  better 
wear  a  superior  coat  of  mail  to  anything  of  the  kind 
manufactured  in  this  country. 

At  this  point  the  conversation  between  Charlie  Kirt- 
land  and  Alf.  Watson  closed  and  was  never  again 
renewed. 

Parsons,  on  the  Saturday  succeeding  the  events  so 
far  recorded  in  this  chapter,  decided  that  on  the  next 
day  he  would  visit  some  of  the  good  people  in  the  neigh 
borhood  where  he  had  formerly  taught.  Accordingly, 
when  the  morning  came  and  he  had  partaken  of  break 
fast,  he  started  early  to  make  his  intended  visit. 

WHAT  NEXT? — 24. 


370  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

During  the  week  preceding  this  ride,  he  had  not 
heard  anything  from  Miss  Rowdon,  and  consequently 
did  not  know  whether  she  was  sick  or  well,  at  home  or 
abroad.  In  passing  to  and  from  his  school  he  had 
not  seen  her,  and  a  prudent  caution  would  not  allow 
him  to  make  any  inquiry  of  her  pupil  sisters  as  to  her 
whereabouts,  or  even  to  ask  if  she  were  well. 

As  Parsons  rode  through  the  adjacent  town,  by  a 
mere  fortuity  he  discovered  that  Miss  Lunata  was 
visiting  therein  a  special  friend  of  her  father's  family, 
and  would  remain  with  them  for  several  days. 

Parsons  made  his  visit,  and  upon  his  return  late  in 
the  afternoon,  he  stopped  at  the  hotel  upon  reaching 
town.  Here  he  had  his  horse  stabled,  with  instruction 
to  the  hostler,  that,  inasmuch  as  he  expected  to  take  a 
late  ride  that  night,  he  would  call  for  his  horse  about 
11  o'clock. 

Parsons  correctly  judged  that  Miss  Lunata  would 
attend  some  one  of  the  churches  that  night.  He 
therefore  put  himself  in  a  position  on  the  street  where 
he  could  see  her  pass,  in  going  from  the  home  in  which 
she  was  visiting,  and  without  any  necessity  of  making 
inquiry,  by  card  or  otherwise,  as  to  what  church  sl.e 
would  attend.  He  succeeded  in  making  the  discover}', 
and  after  she,  her  escort  and  a  young  lady  friend  had 
found  seats  among  the  congregation,  Prof.  Parsons 
walked  lightly  in,  and  seated  himself  in  the  extreme 
rear  end  of  the  building. 

Upon  the  adjournment  of  the  congregation,  he  was 
so  near  the  entrance  that  he  was  among  the  very  first 
to  find  exit,  and  waiting  close  by  the  door,  he  soon 
saw  Miss  Lunata  and  her  company  among  the  throng 
who  were  moving  out.  As  the  trio  stood  for  a  moment 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  371 

when  out,  preparatory  to  starting,  Parsons  stepped  up 
to  the  young  man  who  had  the  ladies  in  charge,  and 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  need  help  in  taking  care  of  the 
two  young  ladies,  and  told  him  that,  with  his  permis: 
sion,  he  would  relieve  him  of  a  part  of  his  charge. 

At  that  moment,  by  the  light  which  streamed 
through  the  door,  the  eyes  of  Miss  Lunata  and  Prof. 
Parsons  met,  in  glad,  but  undemonstrative  recognition. 
Taking  hold  of  her  right  hand,  he  deftly  slipped  it 
through  his  kimboed  arm,  and  with  hearts  full  of  joy 
the  two  went  tripping  along  the  street  to  where  Miss 
Rowdon  was  stopping.  Before  reaching  the  house, 
Parsons  said  to  her  that  it  was  still  an  early  hour  of 
the  evening,  and  if  it  met  her  approbation,  he  would  like 
to  spend  an  hour  or  more  with  her  in  the  parlor  of  her 
host,  provided  they  could  have  the  use  of  the  parlor  to 
themselves.  He  told  her  how  very  much  gratified  he  felt, 
that  by  chance,  he  had  met  her,  and  as  their  meetings 
had  grown  to  be  "  few  and  far  between"  if  was  a  rare 
pleasure  to  be  permitted  to  be  in  her  presence  and 
enjoy  her  company. 

Miss  Lunata  replied  that  their  present  meeting  was 
a  most  delightful  surprise — a  surprise  that  brought  to 
her  more  real  gratification  than  anything  she  had 
experienced  since  their  last  conference,  She  told  him 
it  would,  of  course,  be  a  source  of  continued  gladness 
to  have  him  remain  just  as  long  as  he  chose  to  stay. 
Besides,  as  he  proposed  returning  to  his  boarding- 
house  that  night,  his  stay  with  her  for  an  hour  or  two 
would  probably  prevent  his  being  caught  in  a  storm 
which  seemed  to  be  coming  up  from  the  west. 

When  they  reached  the  door  of  the  house  where  she 
was  visiting,  it  was  opened  by  a  servant,  and  the 


372  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

two  passed  in.  Miss  Lunata  asked  to  be  excused  for 
a  few  moments,  and  passed  upstairs,  and  the  Professor 
was  invited  to  take  a  seat  in  the  parlor.  In  a  few 
minutes  Miss  Lunata  returned.  The  two  then  seated 
themselves  upon  a  divan,  and,  for  the  time  that  they 
were  together,  their  joy  over  the  privilege  of  being 
permitted  to  hold  an  undisturbed  conversation,  was 
indescribably  delightful.  The  conversation  was  an 
economical  use  of  time,  and  was  like  bruised  flowers 
shedding  aroma  because  of  their  wounding. 

Prof.  Parsons  had  very  much  to  tell  Miss  Lunata 
about  what  he  had  learned  in  regard  to  such  things  as 
she  might  feel  an  interest  in,  and  among  them  did  not 
fail  to  give  a  succinct  and  careful  recital  of  the  con 
versation  which  had  taken  place  between  Kirtland 
and  Mrs.  Watson.  When  Miss  Lunata  asked  Parsons 
why  he  had  mentioned  the  matter  to  her  a  second 
time,  he  answered,  that  when  he  made  the  first  request 
it  was  made  at  a  time  when  no  thought  of  marrying 
her  against  her  father's  wishes  had  ever  entered  his 
mind,  but  when  the  relations  between  him  and  her 
rendered  it  more  than  probable  that  they  would  marry 
despite  his  wishes,  he  felt  that,  in  justice  to  his  own 
sense  of  honesty,  he  would  be  compelled  to  retract  his 
assertion,  and  thereby  exonerate  himself  from  the 
charge  of  misrepresentation. 

His  explanation  was  accepted,  as  Miss  Lunata  told 
him,  with  pride.  She  said  it  was  another  item  of 
evidence  that  went  to  prove  his  genuine  loyalty  to 
right.  She  acknowledged  that  she  did  not  think 
she  would  have  considered  it  necessary  to  undo  what 
had  been  done,  but  that  his  explanation,  as  to  why  he 
revoked  his  first  request,  shed  a  new  light  upon  what 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  373 

he  did,  it  raised  him  one  notch  higher  in  her  estima 
tion,  if  there  were  any  notches  higher  than  the  ones  he 
already  held. 

After  everything  which  had  come  within  the  obser 
vation  of  each  of  them,  as  well  as  all  that  had  been 
heard  by  either  of  them,  had  been  recounted,  it  was 
found  that  there  was  no  cessation  in  the  violence  of 
the  storm,  which  had  been  raging  ever  since  the  pair 
had  seated  themselves  in  the  parlor.  Until  there 
should  be  a  cessation  in  the  downpour  of  rain,  Miss 
Lunata  declared  she  would  not  think  of  allowing  him 
to  quit  the  room.  It  was  really  a  very  great  pleasure 
to  be  compelled  to  remain  in  the  company  of  one  in 
whose  presence  he  found  superlative  delight,  and  the 
time  was  utilized  to  the  best  possible  advantage. 
Each  of  the  young  people  whose  devotion  for  one 
another  was  well  nigh  immeasurable,  was  glad  that 
the  elements  had  conspired  to  give  greater  length 
to  their  meeting,  and  but  for  the  lateness  of  the  hour 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  the  rain  protract 
still  further  the  duration  of  their  meeting.  At  length 
Parsons  stepped  to  the  window  and,  peering  into  the 
darkness  that  was  fitfully  illuminated  by  the  flashes  of 
lightning,  he  remarked  that  there  was  a  grand  display 
of  pyrotechnics  athwart  the  heavens,  and  that  the  rum 
bling  thunder,  plainly,  and  loudly  told  that  although 
there  was  a  temporary  cessation  of  the  rain,  the  storm 
was  not  over,  but  that  he  would  take  advantage  of  the 
pause  in  rain-fall,  and  dodge  out  while  the  clouds  were 
holding  up  their  showery  effusion,  and  making  a  way 
for  his  escape. 

Having  bade  Miss  Lunata  a  kind  adieu,  and  leaving 
her  with  the  understanding  that  it  would  not  be  long 


374  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

till  they  would  meet  again,  he  bowed — donned  his  hat, 
and  was  soon  picking  his  way  through  the  darkness, 
and  along  the  reeking  streets  by  the  light  of  the 
momentary  flashes  of  lightning.  Everything  was 
quiet  as  he  threaded  his  way  to  the  hotel,  save  the 
rattling  of  the  water  as  it  poured  over  some  offset  hard 
by  the  sidewalk,  or  the  detonating  discharges  of 
occasional  peals  of  deeptoned  thunder,  reverberating 
on  and  around  the  adjacent  hills.  With  these  excep 
tions,  everything  was  still.  The  non-appearance  of 
either  light  or  life,  adown  the  streets  through  which  he 
passed,  betokened  the  fact,  that  save  himself,  everybody 
was  safely  housed  from  the  storm  and  making  their 
proper  offerings  to  old  Somnus. 

Parsons  reached  the  hotel  without  getting  wet,  but 
had  hardly  cleared  the  entrance  thereto  before  the  rain 
began  to  come  down  again  in  torrents.  He  felt  disin 
clined  to  remain  in  town  for  the  rest  of  the  night, 
because  he  believed  his  going  home  in  the  morning 
would  put  the  nosing  committee  to  work,  and  discov 
ering  that  he  had  spent  the  night  in  the  town,  the  same 
committee  would  continue  their  investigations  until 
they  discovered  that  Miss  Lunata  was  also  in  town,  and 
the  inference  drawn  that  he  had  been  in  her  company. 
This  would  be  sufficient  he  thought  to  have  the 
spies  consider  the  trail  worthy  of  being  pushed,  and 
discovering  that  he  and  Miss  Rowdon  had  had  a  meet 
ing,  he  was  apprehensive  that  she  would  be  made  the 
sufferer. 

For  another  hour  the  rain  continued  to  pour  down 
incessantly,  and  there  seeming  to  be  no  prospect  of  its 
discontinuance,  much  as  he  disliked  to  remain,  Par 
sons  called  for  a  room,  to  which  he  was  conducted, 
and  retired. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  375 

At  daylight  the  next  morning,  his  horse  was  ordered, 
and  mounting  him  he  rode  rapidly  away  towards  the 
home  of  the  Watsons.  He  thought  by  the  early  start 
which  he  had  made,  and  by  rapid  riding,  he  might  be 
able  to  make  the  trip  before  any  one  was  astir  except 
the  servants.  The  Watsons  were  not,  especially  at 
that  season  of  the  year,  very  early  risers,  and  hence 
he  thought  it  probable  that  he  could  reach  his  room 
without  being  discovered.  He  had  not  more  than 
reached  the  limits  of  the  town  when  there  came 
another  downpour  of  rain,  and  an  accompanying  wind 
which  made  the  carrying  of  an  umbrella  an  absurdity. 
He  therefore  folded  this  useless  article  up  and  put 
spurs  to  his  nimble-footed  horse,  and  with  no  other 
protection  than  a  new  and  fine  suit  of  clothes  he  faced 
the  pelting  rain,  and  pushed  his  horse  along  the  high 
way,  until  amid  the  splashing  of  the  water  and  mud, 
under  the  bounding  leaps  of  his  horse  and  the  rattle 
of  the  rain  all  about  him,  he  reached  home. 

A  negro  man,  standing  in  his  cabin  door,  saw  Par 
sons  coming  with  aimost  race-track  speed,  and  ran  out  to 
take  his  horse,  while  Parsons,  drenched  with  rain  and 
begrimed  by  mud,  leaped  from  his  saddle — threw  his 
bridle  reins  to  the  servant  and  darted  away  to  the  house. 

His  room  being  reached  he  doffed  his  wet  clothing 
— hung  them  up  to  dry,  and,  putting  himself  inside  of 
a  dry  suit,  went  down  to  breakfast  as  perfectly  com 
posed — as  sleek,  trim  and  dry  as  though  Jupiter 
Plurius  had  not  administered  to  him  in  the  very  early 
morning  a  bath  by  effusion,  for  none  of  the  white 
family  knew  anything  about  what  time  he  came  home. 

The  negroes  on  the  Watson  farm  were  all  admirers 
of  Parsons  and  were  especially  partial  to  him.  Aunt 


376  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

Edie,  the  professional  cook  for  the  family,  wanted  to 
know  what  kind  of  dishes  in  the  line  of  substantials 
he  was  fond  of — how  he  wanted  them  served — what 
kind  of  pastry  he  preferred,  &c.,  and  when  his  tastes 
had  been  consulted,  she  was  sure  to  have  something 
palatable  for  the  "Fessor,"  as  she  styled  Parsons. 

The  negro  men  were  also  especially  polite  in  their 
manners  towards  the  young  teacher,  and  were  fond  of 
waiting  on  him.  Did  his  boots  need  blacking — did 
his  clothes  need  brushing — was  his  horse  needed  ;  if  ?o, 
there  was  a  vicing  among  them  as  to  who  should  per 
form  the  service.  Indeed  every  servant  on  the  Watson 
farm  was,  by  acts  that  could  not  be  misconstrued 
desirous  of  being  considered  loyal  to  the  interest  of  the 
young  teacher.  He  was  kind  to  them,  and  backed  his 
kindness  by  a  generosity  which  they  could  appreciate. 
He  taught  some  of  them  a  kind  of  sign  language,  and 
and  by  its  use  they  became  as  dumb  as  Dagon  about 
that  which  Parsons  indicated  he  did  not  want  men 
tioned.  It  was,  therefore,  not  a  matter  of  wonder  how 
he  could  come  home  so  perfectly  saturated  by  being  in  a 
storm  of  rain  and  the  Watsons  never  know  anything 
about  that  morning's  terrific  bath. 

Among  the  many  things  that  came  up  for  considera 
tion  during  the  long  talk  on  the  stormy  Sunday  night, 
Miss  Lunata  was  informed  by  Prof.  Parsons  of  every 
movement  which  had  been  made  to  injure  his  reputa 
tion,  and  ruin  his  influence  in  the  vicinity  of  his  school. 
The  names  of  the  parties  who  had  been  and  were  still 
engaged  in  the  nefarious  work  were  all  given  her,  and 
the  part  that  each  was  playing  in  order  to  accomplish 
the  desired  purpose  was  also  outlined.  But  he  told 
her  to  be  comforted,  for,  although  they  seemed  to  be 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  377 

environed  by  a  set  of  conspirators,  whose  aim  was 
evidently  to  try  to  forestall  all  communication  between 
them,  he  believed  their  work  would  come  to  nought, 
and  that  the  coming  of  a  better  time  was  not  very  far 
away. 

After  that  meeting  which  was  rendered  doubly 
pleasant,  by  being  a  surprise,  Parsons  thought  he 
discovered  that  there  was,  to  some  extent,  a  cessation 
of  active  hostilities;  and  Charlie  Kirtland  thought 
matters  had  assumed  a  better  shape  everywhere,  except 
in  the  Watson  household. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  knowing  what  was  taking 
place  in  the  Rowdon  family,  except  through  such 
information,  as  young  Jerry  Lasell  could  every  now 
and  then  communicate  to  Parsons.  This  letter  carrier 
had,  in  the  last  interview  which  he  had  with  his 
teacher,  informed  him,  that,  for  reasons  not  yet  under 
stood,  the  horse  of  Aurelius  Munson  had  ceased  to  be 
hitched  to  his  accustomed  rack  in  front  of  his  uncle's 
home.  When  questioned  as  to  when  the  last  visit 
had  occurred  which  Munson  made,  he  stated  that  his 
last  visit  had  occurred  on  Wednesday  succeeding  the 
recent  stormy  Sunday  night.  Miss  Lunata  returned 
from  town  on  Wednesday,  and  that  evening  Munson 
called  to  see  her.  "Since  then,"  said  he,  "his  horse 
has  vacated  that  post,  and  given  it  up  to  other  callers." 

There  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  rounding  up  in  the 
Rowdon  locality  of  such  matters  as  he  was  especially 
interested  in,  as  though  the  time  of  final  settlement 
was  drawing  near,  and  these  indications  added  to  the 
fact  that  the  Watsons  were  showing  an  increase  in 
their  dislike,  brought  Prof.  Parsons  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  time  had  about  arrived,  when  some  definite  under- 


378  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

standing  should  be  reached  in  regard  to  the  time  when 
she  would  quit  her  home  to  join  him  in  a  trip  to  Aber 
deen,  Ohio.  He  thought  an  exact  and  well  understood 
time,  for  this  most  important  move,  should  be  decided 
upon  before  he  left  the  neighborhood  ;  for,  having  once 
changed  his  location,  he  would  forestall  himself  from 
all  opportunity  of  accomplishing  what  could,  without 
any  great  risk,  be  accomplished  while  he  was  still  in 
charge  of  the  school. 

In  view  of  such  a  state  of  environments,  Parsons 
decided  to  try  to  bring  the  especial  matter  which  was 
as  yet  undecided  to  a  finality.  He  therefore  indited 
the  following  letter  to  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  which  was 
carried  to  her  through  the  politeness  of  young  Jerry 
Lasell: 

WATSON  HOUSE,  June  20,  184 — . 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon,  At  Home : 

MY  DEAREST  LUNATA  : — There  is  a  train  of  circum 
stances  at  present  environing  me,  that  makes  the 
writing  of  this  letter  a  necessity.  The  relations 
between  the  Watson  family  and  myself  are  growing 
daily  more  strained.  The  influence  of  Alf.  over  the 
other  members  of  the  Watson  household  (Miss  Ida 
excepted),  has  been  brought  to  bear  in  creating  such  a 
prejudice  against  me,  as  that  even  an  exhibit  of  com 
mon  courtesy  may,  at  any  time,  be  denied  me.  I  had 
hoped  to  remain  in  the  family  until  the  close  of  my 
school  term,  but  I  am  now  apprehensive  that  I  may  be 
under  the  necessity  of  quitting  the  place  sooner. 
Should  the  discovered  prejudice  suggest,  that,  before 
the  close  of  my  school,  it  would  be  better  that  I  seek 
a  temporary  home,  where  I  could  be  free  from  all 
possibility  of  being  mistreated,  I  will,  at  once  seek 
shelter  elsewhere.  But,  I  am  suspicious,  that,  With 
such  a  move,  the  opportunity  of  seeing  you,  or,  clan 
destinely  meeting  you,  would  be  rendered  much  more 
difficult,  as  well  as  dangerous. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  379 

In  addition  to  the  question  of  my  moving,  I  may 
add,  that,  at  all  events,  I  will  certainly  withdraw  from 
your  neighborhood,  upon  the  close  of  my  school ;  and 
any  effort  upon  my  part  to  see  you,  would  then,  neces 
sarily  be  almost  completely  out  of  my  power. 

The  facts  stated  being  true,  and  no  complete  or 
difinite  arrangements  having  been  made  for  the  con 
summation  of  our  marriage ;  and,  with  a  settled 
conviction  in  the  minds  of  each  of  us,  that  this  con 
summation  can  only  be  effected  by  flight ;  I  am 
growing  exceedingly  solicitous  as  to  the  time  of  our 
departure,  and  the  necessary  preliminaries,  incident  to 
that  departure.  The  reasons  that  I  have  offered  for 
my  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  matters  I  have  named, 
it  is  hoped,  will  be  considered  sufficiently  cogent  to 
justify  my  insisting  upon  our  having  an  early  meeting. 

That  such  a  meeting  may  be  held,  I  offer  the  follow 
ing  suggestions  :  Namely,  I  think  Monday  about  high 
noon  would  be  a  very  opportune  time  for  our  interview. 
It  will  be  county  court  day  in  Wenona  and  your  fa'.'her, 
you  know,  if  he  is  well,  will  be  sure  to  attend,  and 
will  not  return  until  late  in  the  afternoon.  A  meeting 
therefore  between  you  and  me  can  be  held  in  the  forest 
hard  by  your  home,  and  run  but  little  risk  of  having 
our  meeting  interrupted.  Having  passed  through 
these  woods  almost  every -day  since  the  beginning  of 
my  school,  I  have  grown  quite  familiar  with  every  path 
and  by-way  with  which  they  are  intersected — with 
every  towering  tree  with  which  the  woods  are  adorned; 
and,  inasmuch  as  my  school  house  stands  within  the 
inclosure  of  the  woods,  you  would  decide  that  I  was  a 
poor  hand  at  description,  could  I  not  designate,  accu 
rately,  the  very  spot  upon  which  I  suggest  that  we 
meet,  so  that  you  could  not  mistake  the  place. 

The  following  suggestion  I  therefore  make  as  to  the 
place.  There  is  a  large  thick  foliaged,  spreading  ash 
tree  which  stands  on  the  southeast  side  of  the  pond  in 
that  woods,  and  about  fifty  yards  from  the  pond.  The 
trunk,  or  body  of  the  tree,  is  of  a  lighter  color  than 
the  other  trees  in  that  vicinity.  If  you  will  meet  me 


380  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

under  the  shade  of  that  tree  at  the  designated  hour, 
upon  the  day  named,  we  will  hold  our  conference — the 
last  perhaps  we  will  hold,  till  all  barriers  are  removed, 
and  we  no  longer  be  compelled  to  hold  clandestine 
meetings ;  but  in  the  joyous  reality  of  a  perfected 
freedom,  ask  no  one  for  "the  liberty  of  free  speech." 
nor  run  any  risks  of  being  followed  by  jealous  suitors 
or  hired  spies. 

This  letter  will  be  handed  you  by  young  Lasell,  and 
as  I  shall  expect  an  immediate  answer,  you  can  send 
it  by  him,  Devotedh*  yours, 

JOHN  PARSONS. 

In  reply  to  this  letter,  Miss  Lunata  wrote  a  short 
response  in  which  she  stated  that  the  proposition  for 
the  meeting — the  time  and  the  place  met  her  approval, 
and,  unless  she  should  be  prevented  by  inclement 
weather,  or  by  some  unforseen  accident,  she  would  be 
on  the  ground  promptly  at  the  time  specified,  adding 
that  his  description  of  the  place  was  so  very  accurate 
that  it  would  be  almost  impossible  for  her  to  make  a 
mistake  in  identifying  the  precise  spot. 

At  this  juncture  in  this  little  heart-history  it  may 
seem  strange  that  a  minority  of  a  board  of  trus 
tees  should  have  decided  to  do  what  a  majoritj' 
most  resolutely  opposed.  It  may  seem  equally  strange, 
until  all  the  circumstances  are  understood,  that  any 
part  of  that  board  should  have  shown  themselves 
ready  to  read  the  death  warrant  of  the  best  school,  by 
very  large  odds,  that  had  ever  been  taught  in  that  neigh 
borhood.  It  may  appear  as  an  exhibit  of  human 
weakness,  if  not  of  human  depravity  to  know  that  Mr. 
Watson,  Sr.,  was  one  of  the  two  who  constituted  the 
meager  minority,  and  that  even  that  minority  had 
decided  to  read  John  Parsons  out  of  his  position  as 
teacher  in  their  school,  and  thereby  read  him  out  of 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  381 

that  part  of  the  country  if  possible. 

To  find  that  Mr.  Henry  Rowdonwas  arrayed  in  open 
and  avow.ed  hostility  to  Prof.  Parsons  was  not  a  matter  of 
surprise,  for  the  stubborn  opposition  which  he  had  to  the 
young  man's  paying  any  attention  to  his  daughter  was  no 
longer  talked  about  in  whispers.  People  became  loud 
mouthed  in  their  condemnation  of  his  course,  espe 
cially  in  their  complaints  against  him,  for  allowing  his 
personal  home  affairs  to  interrupt  and  close  as  fine 
and  popular  a  school  as  Prof.  Parsons  had  established 
and  was  successfully  conducting.  As  to  the  objections 
of  Mr.  Eli  Watson,  nobody  seemed  to  be  in  the  least 
surprised.  It  was  generally  known  that  through  the 
influence  of  his  son  Alf .  the  father  was  playing  second 
fiddle  to  the  prejudice  of  Mr.  Henr}1-  Rowdon.  In  fact, 
all  sides  of  it  considered,  it  seemed  to  be  a  very 
strange  case. 

Some  of  them  who  felt  themselves  especially 
grieved  over  the  anticipated  removal  of  Prof.  Parsons, 
regarded  it  as  a  case  of  unparalleled  injustice.  It  was 
claimed  that  one  of  the  minority  trustees  wanted  to 
dispense  with  the  services  of  a  strictly  first-class 
teacher  because  he  imagined  the  teacher  wanted  to 
marry  his  eldest  daughter;  while  the  other  trustee 
wanted  him  sent  away  because  he  was  not  willing  to 
marry  his  second  daughter. 

The  first  of  these  assertions  was  certainly  true,  and 
whether  the  last  was  true  or  not,  gossipers  had  been 
talking  that  way,  and  as  to  who  started  the  report, 
Prof.  Parsons  never  knew. 

When  it  is  remembered  that  this  same  Eli  Watson, 
as  the  deputized  committeeman  of  his  Board  of  School 
Trustees,  had  sought  to  secure  the  services  of  Prof. 


382  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

Parsons  as  a  teacher  for  their  school,  and  that  the 
said  committeeman  had  been  refused  by  Parsons,  on 
the  ground  that  the  children  in  his  district  were 
reported  to  be  unruly  and  hard  to  manage,  and  that 
their  parents  were  little  better,  being  fussy  and  hard  to 
please  ;  and  when  it  is  is  further  remembered,  that  at 
the  expiration  of  one  year  from  the  time  this  applica 
tion  was  made,  this  same  Eli  Watson  made  Prof.  Par 
sons  a  second  visit — that  an  offer,  on  that  visit,  of  an 
increase  in  the  salary  formerly  proposed,  together  with 
an  assurance  that  his  people  had  been  misrepresented 
in  the  story  which  had  been  told  about  their  being  hard 
to  please,  had  induced  Prof.  Parsons  to  accept  his 
terms  ;  and  furthermore,  when  it  is  remembered  that  it 
was  in  the  family  of  this  same.  Watson,  Sr.,  that  the 
Professor  found  boarding,  and  was  highly  esteemed  by 
the  family  as  a  gentleman — complimented  for  his 
urbane  bearing  and  generously  accepted  as  a  friend  ; 
the  question,  in  view  of  all  these  facts,  will  naturally  sug 
gest  itself,  as  to  the  reason  why  Mr.  Eli  Watson  should 
have  become  so  exceedingly  anxious  to  dispose  of  the 
teacher  whom  he  had  been  so  anxious  to  secure.  No 
bill  ot  grievance  had  been  filed  against  him — no  com 
plaint  of  a  failure  to  discharge  his  duty  had  been  made 
by  any  one  of  his  patrons,  the  Watsons  excepted. 
Even  Mr.  Rowdon  had  too  much  honesty  to  allege 
against  him  incapacity  or  inattention  to  his  duties  as 
a  teacher.  He  had  a  complaint  to  urge  against  the 
young  Professor,  but  it  was  of  a  private  character,  and 
he  never  presented  that  grievance  to  the  attention  of 
the  trustees. 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  383 

That  the  course  as  taken,  would  be  decided  upon  by 
the  trustees  Prof.  Parsons  was  fully  convinced,  and  he 
therefore  made  preparation  to  settle  his  business  and 
arrange  to  vacate  his  post.  He  packed  and  boxed  his 
books — deposited  his  clothing  in  a  trunk  preparatory 
to  moving,  and,  while  doing  so,  could  but  wonder  at 
the  fickleness  of  fortune ;  but  resolutely  said — I  know, 
What's  Next. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"His  eye-brow  dark,  and  eye  of  fire. 
Showed  spirit  proud,  and  prompt  to  ire; 
Yet  lines  of  thought  upon  his  cheek 
Did  deep  design  and  counsel  apeak." 

—Scott. 

the  Friday  following  the  arrangement  for  the 
meeting  between  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss  Rowdon 
for  the  ensuing  Monday,  the  trustees  of  his  school 
met,  by  notification,  in  the  school-house  to  make 
a  final  settlement  with  him. 

By  a  pre-arrangement  a  meager  minority  of  that 
Board,  consisting  of  Mr.  Eli  Watson  and  Mr.  Henry 
Rowdon,  had  decided  that  a  formal  announcement  of 
the  discharge  of  the  3Toung  Professor  should  be  made 
at  that  meeting,  and  that  the  discharge  should  be 
announced  just  as  soon  as  the  settlement  between  him 
and  the  Trustees  should  have  been  completed. 

When  the  Board  Assembled,  it  was  evident  from  the 
general  appearance  of  the  majority  as  well  as  from  the 
murmuring  of  dissatisfaction  that  was  heard  among 
them,  that  there  was  a  considerable  amount  of  sup 
pressed  excitement  in  the  house,  and  that  there  was  a 
latent  feeling  of  displeasure  felt  by  every  member  of 
the  Board  except  Watson  and  Rowdon.  As  the  settle 
ment  was  being  conducted,  there  was  a  noticeable 
difference  in  the  fairness  of  the  two  men  who  had 
determined  upon  having  Prof.  Parsons  give  up  his 
position,  and  to  humiliate  him  by  a  formal  discharge. 

While  he  had  been  teaching,  Parsons  had  gone  to- 
considerable  expense,  with  the  consent  of  the  Trustees, 
in  repairing  the  house  and  furnishing  such  things  as 
were  needed  to  make  it  comfortable.  When  Parsons 
brought  in  the  bills  which  he  had  paid  for  these  differ- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  385 

ent  items.  Watson  was  first  to  speak,  and  said,  that, 
so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  he  was  opposed  to  paying 
certain  of  these  bills,  as  the  permission  granted  Par 
sons  had  been  transcended. 

Mr.  Rowdon  replied  to  this,  by  stating,  that  the  bills 
presented  were  for  articles  furnished  for  the  school,  and 
for  improvements  upon  the  house — that  the  teacher 
who  would  vacate  the  building  in  a  few  days  was  not 
expected  to  remove  the  articles  which  had  been  bought, 
nor  lay  claim  to  any  part  of  the  house ;  and  that 
the  articles  being  left  in  their  possession,  as  their 
property,  it  was  but  right  and  just  that  he  should  be 
reimbursed  for  what  he  had  expended,  and  if  the  same 
was  not  ordered  to  be  paid,  he  would  pay  the  bills 
himself.  He  further  stated  that  the  school  house  was  his 
individual  property — that  no  title  to  it  existed  any 
where  except  in  him,  and  while  heretofore  he  had  only 
exercised  the  right  of  one  voter  in  matters  pertaining 
to  the  school,  in  this  instance  he  proposed  to  act  with 
such  authority  as  was  legally  his,  and  remove  the 
present  incumbent  from  his  office,  as  soon  as  his 
present  term  expired.  But,  while  he  would  do  this,  he 
would  at  least  see  that  the  young  man  should  be  paid 
every  penny  he  has  expended  in  making  the  building 
comfortable. 

When  Mr.  Rowdon  had  made  this  statement  Prof. 
Parsons  arose  and  remarked  that  he  desired  to  recog 
nize  this  show  of  partial  justice. 

The  settlement  was  finally  made,  and  as  soon  as  it 
was  finished  Parsons  arose,  and  addressing  the  gentle 
men  present,  said : 

WHAT  NEXT? — 25. 


386  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

"  Gentlemen: — It  is  a  fact  patent  to  each  and  ever}* 
one  of  you,  that  I  did  not  seek  the  position  which  I 
am  holding  in  your  midst  as  teacher,  but  the  position 
coaxingly  sought  me.  It  is  known  as  well,  to  all  of 
you,  that  I  postively  refused  to  entertiain  a  first  propo 
sition  to  become  your  teacher  when  earnestly  solicited 
to  do  so  by  your  deputized  agent,  Mr.  Eli  Watson.  He 
at  least  remembers  that  one  of  my  chief  objections  to 
accepting  the  position  was,  that  the  patrons  of  the 
school  were  hard  to  please.  That  my  supposition,  as 
then  expressed,  in  regard  to  some  of  those  who  ought 
to  be  supporters  of  the  school,  was  correct,  I  think  is 
significantly  shown  by  this  coming  together  of  your 
board  of  officers.  My  supposition  is  that  you  have 
met  for  the  purpose  of  serving  me  with  a  formal  notice 
that  my  services  in  your  midst  are  to  be  dispensed 
with  upon  the  close  of  my  present  unexpired  session. 
In  fact,  one  of  your  number  has  already  indicated  as 
much.  Your  settlement  with  me,  before  the  termina 
tion  of  my  work  and  the  positive  position  taken  by 
Mr.  Rowdon  quiets  this  question.  But,  gentlemen,  I 
feel  that  I  can  at  least  be  permitted  to  say,  that,  in 
nothing  I  have  done,  is  there  any  self-censure  which  I 
have  to  lay  at,  my  door.  When  I  leave  your  neighbor 
hood,  I  shall  do  so  without  bearing  away  with  nae  any 
compunctions  of  conscience  because  of  duty  neglected. 
I  will  bid  adieu  to  your  community  without  any 
remorse  over  a  neglected  compliance  with  either  my 
moral  or  my  legal  obligations.  I  will  leave  you, 
believing  the  honest  discharge  of  my  duty  will  be  the 
very  best  attestation  of  my  right  to  expect  the  friend 
ship  of  those  who  know  how  to  appreciate  rectitude  of 
purpose  as  well  as  rectitude  of  conduct. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  387 

"Gentlemen,  under  my  management  your  school  has 
grown  in  numbers  and  popularity  beyond  the  most 
sanguine  expectations  of  its  deeply  interested  patrons. 
It  has  extended  its  influence  until,  as  you  are  aware, 
it  now  numbers,  among  those  who  are  under  my 
instruction,  pupils  from  several  other  counties.  I 
desire  to  add,  and  to  emphasize  what  I  say,  that,  until 
recently,  no  whisper  of  dissatisfaction  has  ever  gained 
a  hearing  with  reference  to  my  system  of  instruction, 
mj-  management  of  my  pupils,  or  of  my  pleasing  my 
patrons." 

Here  one  of  the  majority  members  of  the  Trustees 
spoke  excitedly  of  his  unqualified  disapprobation  of 
the  course  which  was  being  pursued  for  the  purpose  of 
discontinuing,  or  rather  suppressing  by  an  unjustifiable 
exercise  of  legal  force,  the  best  school  the  county  had 
ever  had. 

Prof.  Parsons,  however,  lifting  his  hand,  silenced 
the  dissenting  Trustee,  claiming  that  he  had  the  floor ; 
adding,  that  when  he  was  through,  any  one  of  the 
Trustees  would  be  at  liberty  to  speak,  and,  as  far  as  he 
was  concerned,  without  limit  as  to  time. 

"To  continue  my  remarks,  gentlemen,"  said  Prof. 
Parsons,  "I  will  finish  up  the  remaining  short,  uncom 
pleted  part  of  my  term  with  the  characteristic  honesty 
and  faithfulness  which  I  think  has  been  shown  in 
every  day's  labor  since  I  began  work  in  your  midst. 
Do  not  consider  this  remark  as  savoring  of  egotism. 
I  think  there  are  present  those  who  will  indorse  wrhat  I 
say,  and  bear  testimony  to  its  truth.  They  have  been 
cognizant  of  the  correctness  of  what  I  say ;  and,  they 
at  least,  will  exonerate  me  from  the  charge  of  self- 
praise." 


388  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

But  gentlemen  ;  if  any  of  you  are  nursing  the*secret 
pleasure  you  will  experience  in  having  me  formally 
dismissed  from  my  charge,  I  want  here,  and  now,  to 
unload  that  pleasure  for  you,  by  waiving  your  formal 
ity,  and  tendering  you  my  resignation,  to  take  effect 
upon  the  day  my  school  closes.  I  do  not  intend  that 
it  shall  be  published  that  I  was  discharged,  for  I  am 
sure  that  could  an  expression  of  those  present  be  polled, 
there  would  be  a  manifested  stubborn  unwillingness  to 
have  me  resign,  much  less  to  have  it  published  that  I 
had  been  discharged.  Therefore,  whatever  may  have 
been  decided  upon  by  any  of  you,  in  secret  caucus 
or  otherwise,  in  regard  to  the  position  I  am  rilling,  the 
gross  injustice  of  publishing  that  I  have  been  dis 
missed  from  my  place  as  teacher,  is  now  too  heavily 
handicapped  to  travel  beyond  the  precincts  of  this 
room.  I  want  you  to  know,  gentlemen,  that,  while  I 
am  poor,  I  am,  by  no  means,  a  pauper.  I  want  you  to 
know  too  that  although  poor,  I  am  too  rich  in  spiritual 
endowment,  and  too  proud  to  cringingly  bow  to  Dives 
or  any  of  his  worshipers.  One  of  the  chief  objections 
that  I  still  have  to  this  particular  locality,  is  that 
there  are  too  many  still  to  be  found  in  it  who  are  hard 
to  please,  and  their  fastideous  taste  is  of  such  a  distorted 
pattern  that  they  place  a  much  higher  estimate  upon 
worldly  emolument  than  upon  what  a  man  merits  by 
his  virtues — too  many  whose  covetousness  blinds  them 
to  any  appreciation  of  the  higher  and  nobler  attributes 
of  human  character." 

"  In  conclusion,  gentlemen,  let  me  say,  I  entered 
your  community  somewhat  reluctantly,  and  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  nature's  terrific  storms,  and  that  I 
leave  it  in  the  midst  of  a  storm  of  unjust,  unholy  and 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  389 

cruel  persecution.  Some  of  you,  possibly  all  of  you, 
know  in  what  this  persecution  originated.  I  have  had 
an  espionage  kept  upon  my  every  movement  for  weeks. 
I  have  been  hounded  from  post  to  pillar,  and  indirectly 
threatened  with  personal  violence.  To  all  of  this  I 
showed  a  profound  indifference.  I  certainly  did  not 
seek  a  difficulty  with  those  who  possibly  thought  their 
threats  would  intimidate  me,  nor  did  I  go  out  of  my 
way  to  avoid  a  collision.  I  made  no  boasts.  I  simply 
said  that  if  any  one  attempted  to  coerce  me  in  any 
way  whatever,  the  man  whose  temerity  would  lead  him 
to  make  the  trial  might  find  himself  taking  a  risk 
without  counting  the  cost.  With  this  state  of  existing 
facts,  I  assure  you  I  am  not  only  willing  to  leave  your 
neighborhood,  but  am  growing  anxious  for  the  time  to 
come  when  I  can  make  my  bow  and  take  my  exit. 
I  assure  you  there  is  not  money  enough  in  your  midst 
to  induce  me  to  remain  with  you  as  a  teacher  longer 
than  the  close  of  my  present  school." 

After  Prof.  Parsons  finished  what  he  wanted  to  say, 
and  had  taken  his  seat,  there  seemed  to  be  no  further 
business  to  be  transacted,  and  there  being  an  estoppel 
put  upon  all  action  by  the  stubborn  announcement  of 
Mr.  Rowdon;  one  by  one,  the  parties  present  started 
out  of  the  house,  and  not  without  manifesting  their 
disapprobation  in  rather  vigorous  terms  did  the 
dissatisfied  party  mount  their  horses  and  start  for  their 
homes. 

As  soon  as  the  meeting,  with  its  fruitless  informality 
had  informally  adjourned,  Prof.  Parsons  closed  the 
house — locked  the  door,  and  went  immediately  to  his 
boarding-house.  A  wagon  had  been  previously  ordered 
by  Parsons  to  go  to  his  boarding-house  and  if  he  were 


390  WHAT  NEXT?  OB 

not  there  to  await  his  coming.  The  wagon  having 
gone  in  advance  of  him  was  in  waiting  when  he 
arrived.  Into  this,  as  speedily  as  possible,  he  loaded 
his  trunk,  box  of  books  and  other  belongings,  and 
having  informed  the  wagoner  where  to  take  what  he 
had  aboard,  the  Professor  bade  the  members  of  the 
Watson  household,  who  were  at  home,  a  courteous 
good  by,  not  omitting  to  give  Aunt  Edie — the  negro 
cook,  a  cordial  God  bless  you,  as  he  shook  one  of  her 
hands,  and  into  the  other  dropped  a  piece  of  money. 
He  then  bade  the  other  negroes,  one  by  one,  good  by, 
and  as  they  stood  about  him  they  seemed  to  be  the 
only  members  of  that  family  who  were  in  the  least 
sorry  that  he  was  leaving  them  to  return  no  more. 
His  horse  being  in  readiness  he  mounted  him  and 
turned  his  back  upon  a  home  in  which  he  had  spent 
so  many  pleasant  days,  and  became  a  stranger  to  those 
he  had  once  loved. 

Arrangements  had  been  made  by  the  Professor  as  to 
where  his  trunk,  books,  &c.,  were  to  be  housed,  but  he 
was  a  bit  puzzled  as  to  what  he  should  do  with  him 
self.  As  he  rode  off  from  the  Watson  home  with 
flushed  cheeks,  and  excitement  playing  fire-fly  with 
his  black  eyes,  he  felt  proud  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
not  without  earnest  and  appreciative  friends  in  that 
community.  Some  of  these  having  heard  of  the 
troubles  into  which  he  had  fallen,  gave  him  pressing 
invitations  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  school-term 
in  their  families.  To  be  so  kindly  remembered  in  the 
midst  of  his  troubles,  was  very  gratifying  to  the  young 
teacher,  but,  up  to,  and  beyond  the  time,  which  had 
been  decided  upon  as  a  trysting  occasion — beneath  a 
certain  tree — standing  a  certain  distance  from  a  certain 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  391 

pond — on  a  certain  day — at  a  certain  hour  of  that 
certain  day,  no  acceptance  had  been  acknowledged  of 
any  one  of  these  invitations. 

By  and  by,  the  specified  court  day  came  when  the 
decision-meeting  was  to  be  held.  About  high  noon  on 
that  day  Prof.  Parsons  sauntered  away  from  the  school 
house  and,  by  a  circuitous  route,  made  his  way  towards 
the  place  which  had  been  designated  for  the  all- 
important  meeting. 

To  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  the  character 
of  the  emotions  that  surged — rose  and  swelled  in  the 
bosom  of  Prof.  Parsons,  as  he  took  this  meandering 
walk,  and  contemplated  the  momentous  importance  of 
what  might  be  wrapped  up  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
next  hour,  is  to  make  a  statement  that  no  one  can 
fully  understand,  unless  it  has  fallen  to  his  lot  to  have 
been  passed  through  a  somewhat  similar  ordeal.  Such 
was  the  decision  at  which  Parsons  himself  arrived, 
and  which  he  subsequently  spoke  of  as  the  supreme 
trial  of  his  life.  He  felt,  and  fully  felt,  as  he  afterwards 
averred,  the  tremendous  pressure  upon  his  mind,  super 
induced  bjr  the  gravity  and  importance  of  the  step  he 
was  preparing  to  take.  He  fairly  staggered  under  the 
responsibilitj*  of  making  a  move  in  which  there  was  so 
much  involved.  But,  as  he  wandered  on  to  meet  the 
woman,  who,  with  calm  and  deliberate  determination, 
had  decided  to  risk  her  happiness — her  temporal  hopes 
and  herself  to  his  care  ;  there  was  a  kind  of  inspira 
tion  that  seemed  to  promise  him  that  Heaven  would 
smile  upon  his  honest  intentions,  and  help  him  to 
overcome  the  trials  and  dangers  to  which  he  might  be 
exposed  in  his  new  relations. 


392  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

When  the  Professor  came  in  sight  of  the  appointed 
place  of  meeting,  he  espied  Miss  Lunata  standing  under 
the  designated  tree,  apparent!}7  in  pensive  meditation. 
Can  it  be,  thought  he,  as  he  caught  sight  of  her  person 
and  posture,  that  she  too  is  pondering  in  her  mind  the 
hazard  of  the  determination  she  has  reached?  Can  it 
be  that  there  is  mingled  with  her  musings  any  doubt 
or  misgivings  as  to  the  prudence  of  the  course  she  is 
preparing  to  pursue?  I  think  not.  I  am  sure  she  has 
looked  at  the  question  in  all  of  its  bearings.  The 
moral  right  which  she  has,  to  array  herself  in  opposi 
tion  to  the  sinister  and  avaricious  purposes  of  her 
father,  I  know  has  been  weighed  in  the  scales  of 
justice,  and  the  decision  has  been  rendered  against 
him.  Her  loyalty  to  her  father,  as  measured  by  the 
line  of  loyalty  to  herself  and  the  universal  and  unalter 
able  law  of  right,  I  believe  is  directing  her  steps,  and 
there  is  no  disposition  now  upon  her  part  to  recant 
anything  she  has  said,  or  to  alter  anything  she  has 
done.  I  can  therefore  approach  her  with  an  unsub 
dued  confidence  that  all  things  in  regard  to  our  marriage 
has  been  fully  matured  by  her,  and  that  our  conference 
will,  therefore,  prove  to  be  all  that  I  could  desire 
it  to  be. 

Upon  the  living  pictuure,  rendered  doubly  beautiful 
by  the  surroundings  and  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  seen,  Parsons  looked  with  peculiar  pride. 
As  Miss  Lunata  stood  beneath  that  tree,  he  gave  his 
eyes  a  feast  in  the  contemplation  of  a  picture,  such  as 
he  knew  the  camera  of  the  soul  would  reproduce  in 
the  days  and  even  years  to  come. 

While  Parsons  was  still  some  distance  away,  Miss 
Lunata  caught  sight  of  him,  and  taking  a  delicate 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  393 

handkerchief  from  her  pocket  she  waved  it ;  that, 
seeing  it,  he  might  know  the  coast  was  clear. 

As  he  approached  her,  his  heart  set  up  such  a 
bouncing  and  throbbing  that  he  was  half  disposed  to 
wonder  if  it  were  not  trying  to  turn  tell-tale  and  to  reveal 
to  her  the  wondrous  excitement  he  was  undergoing  by 
being  brought  into  her  presence  under  such  peculiar 
circumstances.  But  when  he  reached  her,  and  had 
grasped  both  her  hands  in  his,  the  tumultuous  throbbing 
of  that  heart  gradually  beat  itself  back  to  a  normal 
state,  and  Parsons  was  happy. 

The  two  sat  down  upon  the  grass-carpeted  ground 
and  became  at  once  engaged  in  an  earnest  and  serious 
discussion  of  the  matters  which  they  had  met  to 
arrange.  Could  an  onlooker  have  peered  in  upon  this 
couple  as  they  sat  and  talked,  and  arranged  the  plans 
for  their  making  their  escape  from  the  possible  vigilant 
watching  of  suspicious  eyes,  together  with  the  over 
hauling  and  examining  of  every  detail,  incident  to  an 
elopement,  that  onlooker  would  have  better  understood 
why  it  was  impolitic  and  unwise  to  attempt,  in  this 
country,  to  strangle  the  devotional  attachment  which 
has  sprung  up  between  two  young  people,  by  rude, 
harsh,  and  coercive  measures,  or  to  affect  a  sale  by 
bartering  human  affections  far  worldly  pelf. 

This  meeting  was  a  business  affair,  but  the  trans 
action  of  business  did  not  rob  it  of  its  pure  delights. 
The  meeting  was  a  short  one,  and  yet  its  brevity  did 
not  keep  two  hearts,  intent  upon  but  a  single  purpose, 
from  renewing  their  hopes  and  brightening  their  expec 
tations,  in  regard  to  the  full  fruition  of  joys  that  were 
not  very  far  away. 


394  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

The  time  being  fixed  for  their  elopement  unless 
their  purposes  should  be  thwarted,  or  some  unforeseen 
accident  should  prevent  their  getting  away,  it  was  next 
agreed  between  them,  that,  upon  the  Sunday  preced 
ing  their  leaving  home  for  Ohio,  she  should  attend  a 
specified  church,  not  remote  from  her  father's,  and 
that  he  would  send  his  friend  Felix  Brunnell  to  meet 
her  at  the  church  and  accompany  her  home — that  she 
must  invite  the  young  man  to  remain  for  dinner,  and 
that  during  his  visit  she  must  inform  him,  as  far  as 
she  could,  of  every  move  she  would  make  on  the  night 
of  her  leaving  home.  ''You  must  show  him,"  said 
Parsons,  "just  where  he  must  enter  your  home  yard. 
You  must  indicate  for  him  just  where  he  will  find  you 
in  waiting  for  him,  for  he,  being  thus  advised,  will, 
without  difficulty,  be  enabled  to  meet  and  escort  you 
to  the  rest  of  our  company." 

"  My  escort  will  start  from  my  father's.  Our  place 
of  rendezvous  will  be  in  the  thick  woods  just  east  of 
your  home.  We  will  leave  our  horses  there  in  the  care 
of  one  of  our  company.  The  rest  of  us  will  approach 
your  home  from  the  east,  and  halting  at  the  orchard 
gate,  will  send  Brunnell  to  the  spot  which  you  may 
indicate  to  him  as  the  place  where  you  will  meet  him. 
Once  in  his  hands,  he  will  conduct  you  to  us,  and, 
together,  we  will  take  up  our  line  of  march  for  our 
horses.  Once  upon  them,  we  will  strike  out  for  the 
Gretna  Green  of  our  adjacent  state,  to  laugh  at  spies, 
but  at  the  same  time  deplore  the  fate  that  has  robbed 
you  of  your  paternal  blessing  upon  your  starting  on 
your  matrimonial  voyage." 

"As  for  all  preliminaries,  and  the  working  out  of  the 
necessary  details,  these  must  be  fixed  to  suit  your  own 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  395 

convenience,  or  settled  according  to  the  dictates  of 
your  own  ingenuity." 

"Dearest  Lunata,  set  your  triggers  right  and  I 
hardly  think  our  plans  can  miss  fire." 

Then  taking  both  her  hands  again  in  his,  he  said  to  her: 
"  The  Rubicon  is  in  sight — the  die  is  ready  to  be  cast, 
and  before  we  cross  the  one.  or  hazard  the  other,  let  me 
place  the  signet  of  eternal  constancy  upon  your  lips. 
One  kiss  is  all  I  will  ask  now,  and  when  it  is  given,  I 
am  sure  Heaven  will  not  disapprove  of  that  which  is 
surrendered  and  accepted  in  the  innocence  of  two 
uncorrupted  hearts."  Suiting  the  action  to  the  words, 
by  the  hands  which  he  still  held,  he  drew  Miss  Lunata 
towards  him  and  from  her  roseate  lips  plucked  the 
first  kiss  he  had  ever  dared  to  claim  the  right  to  take. 

With  an  invocation  of  blessing  upon  her  head,  Par 
sons  turned  regretfully  away  from  the  trysting  place, 
and  started  back  to  his  school. 

Ever  and  anon,  while  he  went,  as  if  loth  to  leave 
her  who  had  become  the  light  of  his  life,  he  turned, 
and  gave  her  another,  and  still  another  lingering  look, 
and  as  he  took  that  look,  he  kissed  his  hand  to  her 
in  token  of  his  loving  adieu. 

The  retreating  footsteps  of  Prof.  Parsons  were 
watched  by  Miss  Lunata  with  an  absorbing  interest — 
an  interest  such  as  she  had  never  known  before.  She 
had  separated  from  him  sorrowfully  at  other  times;  but 
with  this  separation  there  followed  him  an  anxious 
solicitude,  as  though  the  better  half  of  herself — her 
spiritual  self,  had  gone  away  with  him.  What!  Oh! 
What !  will  our  next  meeting  mean  ?  What !  Oh  ! 
What  !  will  that  next  meeting  do  towards  shaping  my 


396  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

destiny  ?  These  were  questions,  that  in  her  paroxysms 
of  intense  desire  to  know  just  what  seemed  to  lie  but 
a  short  distance  away,  almost  set  her  wild. 

The  sun  ha'd  marched  several  degrees  adown  the 
slope  towards  the  western  horizon  when  Miss  Lunata 
started  homeward.  The  earth  was  clothed  in  glorious 
brightness,  but  Miss  Lunata  was  oblivious  to  the 
beauties  of  her  encompassment.  The  deep,  living  green 
of  the  trees,  beneath  whose  shade  she  walked — the 
birds  that  caroled  their  love-notes  amid  the  swaying 
foliage  of  their  tops — the  soft  carpet  of  velvety  blue- 
grass  on  which  she  walked,  nor  the  deep  blue  of  the 
sunlit  sky  caught  her  attention.  Ordinarily  her  soul 
would  have  been  filled  with  the  beauty  and  poetry  of 
such  surroundings — ordinarily  she  would  have  been 
enthused  with  rapturous  delight  in  viewing  nature's 
glorious  beauties ;  but  something  else  had  filled  her 
heart  full.  Ah  !  yes,  something  else  had  monopolized, 
for  the  time,  the  place  where  natural  beauties  had 
once  found  a  devotee.  Ah !  yes.  waiting,  watching 
and  separation  had  made  her  heart  tired  and  she  was 
taking  that  heart  home  to  rest. 

Miss  Lunata  was  not  the  only  one  who  went  from 
beneath  that  trysting  tree  whose  heart  had  grown 
weary  with  waiting  and  uncompromising  solicitude. 
In  the  main,  he  was  hopeful ;  but,  under  a  certain 
kind  of  strain  his  courage  often  needed  a  supplemental 
help  from  outside  influences.  When  he  parted 
from  Miss  Lunata  after  their  last  conference,  he  was 
overjoyed  at  the  happiness  of  their  interview,  and 
over-sanguine,  in  regard  to  the  completeness  of  their 
ultimate  triumph  ;  but,  just  as  he  was  disappearing 
from  her  sight  and  kissed  his  hand  to  her  as  a  parting 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  397 

love  token,  he  caught  sight  of  that  little  white  hand 
kerchief  which  she  waved  above  her  head,  and  he 
walked  into  his  school-room  and  was  heart-tired  too. 

During  the  same  week,  and  only  two  days  after  the 
last  meeting  between  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss  Lunata 
Rowdon  had  been  held,  Major  Windom,  a  friend  and 
patron  of  the  young  preceptor  met  him,  and  gave  him 
a  very  cordial  invitation  to  make  his  house  a  home 
until  the  close  of  his  school.  The  Major  expressed 
considerable  sympathy  for  the  young  teacher,  and  told 
him  that  both  he  and  his  wife  would  be  delighted  to 
entertain  him  during  the  rest  of  his  stay  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  Parsons  accepted  this  invitation,  and,  while 
he  did  not  move  anything  but  himself  upon  the  Major, 
he  made  his  headquarters  with  the  Windoms — partook 
of  their  hospitality,  and  was  most  delightfully  and 
kindly  entertained  by  that  family. 

In  the  •  excellent  and  cultured  household  of  Major 
Windom,  Prof.  Parsons  found  a  very  great  relief  from 
the  annoying  anxiety,  that  continued  to  hover  about 
him  during  the  latter  part  of  his  stay  in  the  Watson 
family.  The  Windoms  showed  him  marked  kindness, 
and  their  manifested  sympathy  helped  to  cure  the 
heart-wounds  which  a  cruel  injustice  had  inflicted. 
No  member  of  the  Major's  family  seemed  to  under 
stand  why  the  Professor  had  fallen  under  the  ban  of 
Mr.  Rowdon  and  Mr.  Watson,  Sr.  It  had,  of  course, 
become  known  to  the  Windoms  that  trouble  had  arisen 
between  Parsons  and  these  two  men,  and  that  as  a 
result  thereof  the  Professor  had  resigned  his  place  as 
teacher  of  the  school,  his  resignation  to  take  effect 
immediately  upon  the  close  of  the  current  term.  No 


398  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

prurient  curiosity  led  any  member  of  that  family  to 
seek  to  pry  into  what  Parsons  might  probably  desire 
should  not  become  a  matter  for  common  gossip. 

The  animadversion  in  which  Major  Windom  indulged 
in  consequence  of  the  autocratic  authority  as  exercised 
by  a  single  trustee  was  somewhat  severe,  but  not 
severer  than  the  facts  in  the  case  would  warrant.  The 
exercising  of  such  authority  by  an  individual,  even  if 
he  had  the  law  at  his  back,  he  considered  a  poor 
exhibit  of  neighborly  kindness,  when  it  was  remem 
bered  how  manj-  peisons  he  was  discommoding  by 
closing  the  school.  But,  while  he  considered  the 
course  pursued  as  both  an  injustice  to  Prof.  Parsons 
and  a  calamity  to  the  neighborhood,  he  reconciled 
himself  to  the  misfortune,  by  the  belief  that  his  young 
friend,  the  teacher,  might  have  been  led  into  this 
trouble  in  order  that,  escaping  from  the  persecutions 
of  the  two  men,  he  might  really  be  saved  from  some 
thing  far  more  serious  than  having  to  abandon  a  posi 
tion  into  which  he  came  so  reluctantly. 

A  few  mornings  after  Prof.  Parsons  had  moved  his 
quarters  to  Major  Windom's.  he  was  on  his  way  to  his 
school,  and  as  he  was  nearing  the  school-room,  he  was 
met  by  Mr.  Rowdon  just  a  few  rods  from  the  building. 
After  a  somewhat  frigid  morning  salutation,  Mr.  Row 
don  accosted  Parsons  in  a  rather  gruff  style,  saying  to 
him:  "  Why  did  you  request  Mrs.  Watson  to  send  a 
message  to  rne  through  her  husband,  that  my  daughter, 
Luna'ta  was  in  no  danger  of  being  stolen  by  you?  and 
why,  after  the  lapse  of  a  number  of  weeks,  you  having 
learned  that  3Tour  message  had  not  been  delivered,  did 
you  express  the  desire  to  revoke  the  request  you  had 


THE  HONEST    TiilEF.  399 

previously  made  in  regard  to  having  notice  served 
upon  me,  that  my  daughter  Lunata  was  safe  from 
being  kidnapped  by  you  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ever  intimated  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Rowdon, 
"  that  I  thought  my  daughter  was  in  any  danger  of 
being  stolen  ?  Has  anything  ever  transpired  between 
you  and  me  that  would  warrant  the  sending  of  any 
such  a  message  to  me  ?  You  certainly  had  not  been 
taken  into  the  confidence  of  my  family  as  privy  coun 
selor.  Why  then  did  you  think  it  nesessary  to  send 
me  such  a  message  ?  Why  should  you  have  arrogated 
to  yourself  the  self-assumed  duty  of  ppprising  me  that 
I  was  in  no  danger  of  sustaining  by  theft,  the  loss  of 
anything  which  was  rightfully  mine  ?  Furthermore  : 
Why  did  you,  some  weeks  subsequent  to  your  first 
request,  express  the  wish  to  Mrs.  Watson  that  you 
wanted  to  recall  your  first  request?  " 

"You  seem  to  be  quite  well  freghted  with  questions 
this  morning  Mr.  Rowdon,"  said  Parsons;  "  and  why  you 
should  have  sought  to  unload  your  numerous  interrogato 
ries  upon  me,  so  close  to  the  eve  of  my  quitting  your 
neighborhood,  is  just  a  bit  puzzling.  I  do  not  con 
sider  myself  under  any  obligations  to  answer  any  one 
of  your  questions,  nor  to  explain  for  you  anything  that 
I  have  said  or  done.  Not  being  a  'privy  counselor'  to 
you  or  your  family,  I  am  sure  my  response  to  your 
demands  would  never  bring  me  under  the  censure  of 
any  one,  who  knew  why  you  had  asked  for  answers  to 
the  queries  propounded.  Your  treatment  of  me,  Mr. 
Rowdon,  has  not  beenwrhat  it  ought  to  have  been,  and 
for  that  reason,  if  for  no  other,  I  feel  that  I  am 
absolved  from  all  obligation  to  give  you  any  satisfac 
tion  whatever,  in  regard  to  what  you  may  want  to 


400  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

know  about  me  or  my  intentions.  I  learned  at  my 
mother's  knee,  and  also  gathered  it  from  paternal 
advice,  that  respect  should  always  be  shown  to  age. 
That  respect,  Mr.  Rowdon,  T  would  be  glad  to  accord 
to  you.  Your  allusion  to  my  being  taken  into  your 
family  as  'privy  counselor'  is  an  unkind  gratuity.  I 
waive  the  further  notice  of  this,  and  will  show  you 
that  I  have  neither  forgotten,  nor  am  willing  to  ignore 
the  influence  of  my  early  training." 

"Upon  second  thought,"  said  Parsons,  "  I  will  at 
least  show  you  the  courtesy  to  tell  you  that  my  first 
request  was  made  of  Mrs.  Watson,  because  I  had 
learned,  through  what  I  considered  a  reliable  source, 
that  you  were  uneasy  lest  your  wishes,  in  regard  to  the 
future  of  Miss  Lunata,  should  be  interfered  with  by 
me.  At  that  time,  I  felt  some  sympathy  for  you 
because  of  your  suspicions,  and  felt  disposed  to  try  to 
relieve  your  anxiety,  so  far  as  that  anxiety  was  the 
result  of  my  being  in  the  neighborhood,  and  having 
called  upon  Miss  Lunata  a  few  times.  But  your  sub 
sequent  mistreatment,  under  circumstances  that  made 
any  show  of  resentment  out  of  my  power,  robbed  me 
of  my  sympathy  for  you,  and  my  respect  dwindled  into 
such  littleness,  that  I  then  determined  to  recall  the 
message,  which  I  had  requested  Mrs.  Watson  to  send 
you  by  her  husband." 

"I  have  discovered,  Mr.  Rowdon,  that  you  have 
been  fully  informed  in  regard  to  my  first,  as  well  as 
my  second,  request  of  Mrs.  Watson,  which  goes  to 
show  that  there  was  an  intention  upon  the  part  of 
your  informant  to  create  a  still  further  prejudice  in 
your  mind  against  me  than  you  already  had.  But,  be 
that  as  it  may,  I  say  to  you,  here  and  now,  that,  I  do 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  401 

formally  recant  any  pledge  that  could  possibly  be  con 
sidered  as  couched  in  the  wording  of  the  first  verbal 
notice  I  requested  should  be  sent  to  you.  I  want  to 
be  distinctly  understood  as  not  considering  myself 
bound,  in  whole  or  in  part,  by  that  first  desired  notifi 
cation.  I  shall  hereafter  consider  myself  as  untram- 
meled  by  pledge  of  any  kind  to  you,  and  will  regard 
myself  as  not  only  free  from  any  self-imposed  obliga 
tion  to  you,  but  as  having  perfect  liberty  to  act  towards 
you  and  yours  as  my  judgment  may  suggest,  so  long 
as  what  I  do,  or  purpose  to  do,  does  not  conflict  with 
moral,  legal  or  social  law.  I  feel,  Mr.  Rowdon,  that  I 
owe  you  nothing  except  the  respect  that  is  due  from 
youth  to  age.  Even  this,  I  assure  you,  would  leave 
me,  should  there  be  an  effort  on  your  part  to  try  to 
impeach  my  integritj'  or  soil  my  character." 

''  I  will  soon  l)e  beyond  the  reach  of  your  contempt, 
Mr.  Rowdon  ;  a  contempt  which  you  predicate  upon 
the  fact  that  I  happened  to  be  guilt}7  of  the  crime  of 
being  born  poor.  Other  young  men  who  have  become 
the  heirs  to  a  small  patrimony,  you  treat  with  manifest 
kindness,  while  I,  with  an  ambition  to  make  whatever 
I  can,  and  to  call  what  I  make  my  own,  have  been 
snubbed  by  you  under  your  own  roof.  I  am  glad  to 
say  to  you,  Mr.  Rowdon,  that  you  can  pick  a  flaw 
neither  in  my  character  or  conduct,  and  I  consider 
that  I  make  no  show  of  egotism  in  boldly  asserting 
what  I  defy  you  to  disprove.  I  am  free  from  either 
mental  or  physical  blemish  as  far  as  I  know,  and  I  am 
persuaded  that  this  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  some 
of  the  visitors  who  frequently  call  at  your  home.  Why 
there  should  be  such  an  invidious  distinction  made 

WHAT  NEXT? — 26. 


402  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

between  me  and  others  who  call  at  your  house,  you 
could  probahly  offer  therefor  a  poor  and  flimsy  excuse. 
I  will  not  sufficiently  humble  myself  in  your  presence, 
to  even  say  that  I  would  like  to  know  why  this  dis 
crimination  had  been  made  against  me." 

''I  do  not  feel,  Prof.  Parsons,"  said  Mr.  Rowdon, 
"  that  I  am  under  any  obligation  to  explain  the 
motives  which  have  prompted  me  in  anything  that 
I  have  done,  which,  in  any  way,  bears  upon  you  or 
your  interest,  but,  if  you  will  hear  me  but  for  a 
moment,  I  think  I  can  have  you  understand  some 
things  about  which  you  seem  disposed  to — 

"Hold  on,  Mr.  Rowdon!  I  do  not  want  any  expla 
nation  from  you.  It  is  now  a  fact,  widely  known 
throughout  this  section  of  the  country,  that  you  have 
done  all  that  was  necessary  to  be  done,  in  order  that 
you  might  compass  my  defeat.  But  while  you  were 
enabled  to  accomplish  your  purpose  solely  because  of 
your  ownership  of  the  house  in  which  I  was  teaching, 
and  of  which  fact  I  became  apprised  in  time  to 
prevent  my  being  further  humiliated  by  you  and 
Watson,  Sr. ,  I  still  insist  that  no  explanations  need 
be  offered,  and  you  need  not  attempt  to  make  any. 
You  have  had  your  say,  and  having  had  the  advantage, 
the  victory  is,  so  far,  in  your  favor.  But  let  me  say 
further,  Mr.  Rowdon ;  and  in  saying  what  I  do,  I  do 
not  speak  boastingly ;  I  hazard  the  assertion  that 
health  sustaining  me,  I  will,  in  the  no  distant 
future,  show  myself  to  be  much  further  from  the 
poor-house  than  some  of  your  fawning  favorites. 
There  may  be  an  over  amount  of  pride  in  my  nature  ; 
still  it  is  an  adjunct  of  ambition,  and  I  by  no  means 
deplore  the  fact  that  I  have  enough  pride  to  lead  me  in 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  403 

the  direction  of  right,  and  inspire  me  with  courage  to 
be  a  man.  Since  I  came  into  your  midst  I  have,  in  no 
way,  wronged  you  or  any  one  else,  and  I  hope  the  day 
is  not  far  away  when  you  will  realize  the  fact  that  you 
have  greatly  misjudged  me.  I  hope,  in  that  coming 
time,  you  will  be  able  to  discover  that  you  underrated 
my  persistent  effort  to  show  myself  as  worthy  of  better 
treatment  at  your  hands." 

In  making  this  personal  defense  of  himself,  Parsons 
spoke  in  a  somewhat  excited  manner,  but  never  so  far 
forgot  himself,  as  to  stoop  from  the  bearing  of  a  gen 
tleman.  He  treated  Mr.  Rowdon  with  perfect  polite 
ness,  and  that  gentleman,  after  listening  to  what  the 
young  Professor  had  to  say,  did  not  offer  a  rejoinder, 
but  silently  and  slowly  walked  away ;  and  Parsons 
passed  into  the  school-room  to  enter  upon  his  duty. 

According  to  pre-arrangement,  Mr.  Felix  Brunnell 
called  upon  Prof.  Parsons  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
upon  which  the  foregoing  conversation  between  Mr. 
Rowdon  and  the  Professor  had  taken  place.  Mr. 
Brunnell  lived  in  another  part  of  the  county,  and  for 
this  reason,  as  well  as  others,  had  been  selected  for  the 
delicate  duty  of  piloting  Miss  Rowdon  from  her 
father's  door,  on  the  night  when  she  was  to  decamp 
with  Parsons. 

In  order  that  this  important  and  responsible  trust 
might  be  carried  forward  without  nuy  mishap,  John 
Parsons  knew,  that  in  making  a  selection  of  a  young 
man,  upon  whose  sagacity  and  courage  he  might  rely, 
he  would  have,  necessarily,  to  exercise  a  very  large 
share  of  caution.  The  party,  in  other  words,  who 
might  be  selected  to  perform  so  important  a  part  in 
the  proposed  forth-coming  comedy,  would  have  to  so 


404  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

fully  understand  his  cue  as  not  to  need  any  prompting 
from  the  side  screens  when  the  curtain  went  up.  Little 
mistakes  occurring  upon  the  common  theatre  platform, 
in  the  rendition,  even  of  a  serious  comedy  may  be 
condoned  ;  but,  in  the  execution  of  something  that 
rises  infinitely  above  the  routine  of  the  dramatic  stage 
— a  something  which  is  a  living  reality,  and  in  which 
John  Parsons  and  Lunata  Rowdon  were  the  star  char 
acters,  even  a  small  mistake  might  prove  irremediably 
disastrous.  The  first  part  of  the  intended  drama 
would  be  presented  to  a  very  select  audience ;  and, 
even  that  select  few  would  be  barred  from  any  loud 
exhibition  of  applause,  when  the  second  of  these  stars 
should  first  present  herself,  as  one  of  the  chief  actors, 
and  who  would  be  led  forth  under  the  guidance  of  a 
chosen  pilot.  A  single  misstep,  in  this  part  of  the 
play,  might  be  fatal  to  carrying  forward  the  design 
of  the  pilot.  A  single  blunder,  in  misunderstanding 
exactly  what  was  to  be  done  at  a  certain  crisis  in  the 
comedy,  might  be  fatal  to  cherished  expectations ; 
and,  instead  of  the  enactment  of  a  dramatic  scenee 
which  had  been  planned  to  end  in  the  joyous  consum 
mation  of  youthful  happiness — the  wreathing  of  a  halo 
of  felicitous  bliss  about  two  anxious  souls,  there  might 
be  a  semi-tragedy,  the  wind  up  of  which  might  be  the 
digging  of  a  grave  in  which  to  bury  crushed  hope,  and 
over  them  write  an  epitaph  to  a  lamented  failure. 

It  was,  of  course,  the  intention  of  Prof.  Parsons  to 
so  arrange  the  preliminaries  as  to  make  no  mis 
take  in  his  part  of  the  play.  He  well  knew  the 
importance  of  having  everything  so  adjusted  as  to  pre 
vent  the  possibility  of  having  anything  move  wrong, 
and  that  it  would  be  especially  essential  that  he  should 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  405 

have  the  right  kind  of  a  man  to  plajr  the  delicate  part 
of  first  pilot.  A  knowledge  of  these  facts  led  to  a 
meeting  between  Prof.  Parsons  and  Felix  Brunnell ; 
Parsons  having  determined  to  secure  his  services,  if 
possible,  to  play  the  risky  part  of  chaperoning  Miss 
Rowdon  from  the  house  to  where  she  would  be  met  by 
those  in  waiting  for  her. 

Felix  Brunnell  was  a  very  Appollo  in  his  appear 
ance.  To  a  tall,  muscular  and  commanding  physique, 
he  added  the  special  gift  of  a  fine  address  and  withal 
was  quite  handsome.  He  was  the  son  of  an  influen 
tial  and  well-to-do  farmer,  and  was  about  Parsons' 
age.  Brunnell  was  selected  as  a  coadjutor,  in  aiding 
in  the  escape  of  Miss  Rowdon  for  two  reasons.  First ; 
because  his  especial  sprightliness  and  manliness 
recommended  him  to  the  position  in  which  Parsons 
wanted  him  to  act ;  and,  secondly;  because  he  lived 
outside  of  the  Rowdon  neighborhood,  and  being  a  man 
of  undoubted  honor,  Parsons  thought  a  visit  from  him 
to  Miss  Lunata  would  create  no  suspicion,  now  that 
Munson's  horse  had  no  longer  a  pre-emption  claim 
upon  the  rack  in  front  of  her  home. 

The  meeting  between  Brunnell  and  Parsons  took 
place  on  Tuesday,  the  day  following  that  on  which 
Parsons  had  sent  him  a  written  request  to  meet 
him  at  his  school-room  at  high  noon.  Promptly 
therefore  he  came,  and  without  a  suspicion  as  to  the 
purpose  for  which  he  had  been  summoned  into  the 
presence  of  the  young  teacher. 

Parsons  introduced  the  matter  which  he  desired  to 
lay  before  Felix,  without  lengthy  preface.  He  told 
him  that  he  was  so  situated  at  that  particular  time, 
that  he  stood  in  urgent  need  of  a  friend  whom  he 


406  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

could  use  in  a  very  delicate  undertaking.  The  matter 
in  which  he  desired  to  use  such  a  friend,  he  told 
Felix,  was  one  of  vital  importance,  and  yet,  as  he 
viewed  the  matter,  there  would  be,  in  complying  with 
his  request,  no  compromising  of  any  honor  or  dignity 
of  the  true  gentleman.  He  assured  Brunnell  that  it  was 
because  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  possessor 
of  both  of  these  characteristics,  that  he  was  induced 
to  make  his  appeal  to  him.  He  told  Felix  he  was  in 
trouble — that  he  needed  a  helping  hand — that  he  con 
sidered  himself  as  having  been  badly  treated,  and  that 
he  not  only  needed  a  helping  hand,  but  that  he  craved 
the  sympathy  of  some  one  who  could  appreciate  the 
difficulties  by  which  he  was  encompassed. 

"Parsons,"  said  Felix,  "lam  your  friend,  and  I 
am  your  friend  because  I  think  you  are  worthy  of  my 
friendship,  and  not  only  mine,  but  that  of  every  good 
man  and  woman  in  this  county.  If  you  are  in  trouble, 
and  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way  whatever,  command 
my  help,  for  in  helping  you,  I  am  sure  I  shall  violate 
neither  moral  nor  civil  law.  Say  on." 

'  To  come  squarely  to  the  subject  I  desire  to  lay 
before  you,"  said  Parsons,  "  I  am  in  trouble  growing  out 
of  my  courtship  of  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon.  I  need  not 
go  into  the  details  of  this  courtship.  Suffice  it  to  say, 
that,  although  the  sincerest  honesty  has  characterized 
everything  that  has  taken  place  between  us,  she  is  in 
about  as  much  trouble  as  I  am  myself." 

"  What  you  tell  me,  Professor,  is  a  thing  that  aston 
ishes  me  for  two  reasons.  First ;  to  learn  that  you 
have  made  love  to  Miss  Lunata — that  your  love- 
making  met  her  approval,  and  that  the  whole  thing 
has  resulted  in  trouble  to  both  of  you.  Secondly  ;  to 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  407 

know  that  objection  has  been  made  to  your  suit  by  her 
father,  which  I  now  divine  to  be  the  cause  of  your 
perplexity." 

''Your  surmise  is  correct,"  sain  Parsons.  "Her 
father  not  only  stubbornly  refuses  me  the  privilege  of 
seeing  Miss  Lunata,  but,  with  equal  stubbornness,  has 
ordered  her  to  cease  showing  me  the  common  civilities 
due  a  gentleman." 

"  Of  course  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  why  he 
should  object  to  you  on  any  grounds,  but  I  could  offer 
many  reasons,"  said  Felix,  "  why  he  should  be  proud 
'  of  the  attentions  of  such  a  man  to  his  daughter. 
Avarice  !  Ah !  there  is  where  the  objection  comes  in. 
As  one  of  his  neighbors,  who  had  marriageble  daugh 
ters,  used  to  say,  '  lie  wanted  Idnd."1  As  I  take  it,  Mr. 
Rowdon  knows  the  value  of  land,  but  makes  a  poor 
computation  as  to  the  worth  of  talents." 

"  Accept  my  thanks,  Felix,  for  your  compliment," 
said  Parsons.  "I  can  not  consider  myself  as  deserv 
ing  the  treatment  which  I  have  been  receiving.  We 
have  therefore  both  rebelled  against  such  injustice  as 
has  been  meted  out  to  us,  and  not  only  decided  to 
ignore  his  cruel  demands,  but  have  determined  to 
marry." 

"  Good  !"  said  Felix,  "  I  glory  in  your  pluck,  and  I 
am  delighted  to  know  that  Miss  Lunata  has  evinced 
sufficient  courage  to  agree  to  your  proposal  of  marriage, 
even  if  it  be  under  embarrassing  circumstances." 

"Of  course,  3'ou  will  understand,"  said  Parsons, 
"  that,  inasmuch  as  we  can  not  marry  with  his  consent, 
we  have  fully  resolved  to  do  so  without  asking  his 
permission." 


408  WHAT  NEXT?   OR 

"  Better  still !"  said  Brunnell,  becoming  a  little 
excited  at  the  outcropping  of  these  revelations,  "  and 
may  the  gods  be  kind  to  you,  and  help  you  both  in  the 
undertaking  !" 

'Yes,  Felix,  we  have  determined  to  fly  from  the 
torturing  demands  that  keep  us  apart,  and,  with  no 
accident  to  our  matured  plans,  we  will  unite  our 
destinies  in  the  sacred  bonds  of  a  solemn  wedlock  to 
be  riveted  in  another  state." 

"  Bravo !  friend  Parsons.  The  smiles  of  Heaven 
and  of  good  men  and  women,  must  approve  of  a  matri 
monial  alliance,  which  I  know  will  be  freed  from  the 
interference  of  a  sordid  avarice,  and  will  be  the  union 
of  hearts  and  hands." 

"This  explanation  brings  me,  Felix,"  said  Parsons, 
"  to  the  reason  I  sent  for  you.  In  my  present  emer 
gency,  as  I  have  already  stated,  I  need  a  friend  c  n 
whom  I  can  rely  for  help — some  one  who  will  be  will 
ing  to  assist  Miss  Lunata  and  me  in  working  out  such 
minutiae,  and  such  details  as  will  be  necessary  to  our 
safe  exit  from  this  country.  My  question  now  is,  do  you 
fed  a  sufficient  amount  of  interest  in  the  welfare  of  two 
young  people,  thus  harassed,  to  come  to  their  help  ?" 

"  Prof.  Parsons,"  said  Brunnell,  "  I  am,  in  the  first 
place,  most  profundly  surprised  to  find  such  a  state  of 
affairs  existing  between  you  and  Miss  Rowdon  ;  and, 
in  the  second  place,  I  am  now  most  profoundly  inter 
ested  in  its  outcome.  She  is  a  noble  young  lad}',  and 
I  must  say.  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  an  expert 
angler  to  succeed  in  catching  such  splendid  game. 
How  have  you  kept  the  history  of  this  affair  so  quiet?" 

"  It  is  the  quiet  fisherman,  Felix,  who  generally 
lands  the  biggest  catch." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF. 

"  In  answer  to  your  last  question,"  said  Felix,  "  I 
can  assure  you  that  I  am  your  friend,  and  have  been 
from  the  day  of  our  becoming  acquainted.  You  may 
therefore  command  my  services  for  whatever  you  may 
desire,  and,  if  in  my  power,  I  will  comply  with  your 
demands." 

A  full  and  free  discussion  here  followed  with  refer 
ence  to  all  the  plans  that  had  been  agreed  upon  in  the 
recent  meeting  between  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss  Row- 
don — the  time  appointed  for  the  escape — the  part  her 
escort  was  to  play  in  making  her  escape  from  the 
house — the  way  in  which  he  was  to  receive  the  instruc 
tion  which  would  make  the  escape  easier,  and  all  other 
information  with  which  Miss  Lunata  might  burden 
him,  and  wvhich  would  tend  to  lessen  the  danger  inci 
dent  to  such  a  risk. 

Prof.  Parsons  very  graciously  thanked  Brunnell  for 
his  proffered  aid,  and  inasmuch  as  the  time  had  about 
arrived  for  the  opening  of  the  afternoon  session  of 
the  school,  the  two  3Toung  men  parted,  and,  as  Felix 
rode  away,  Parsons'  eyes  followed  him, 'but  from  his 
heart  there  arose  the  question — Now,  What  Next? 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  Oh  !  only  those 

Whose  HOiilB  have  felt  this  one  idolatry, 
Can  tell  how  precious  is  the  slightest  thing 
Affection  gives  and  hallows!     A  dead  (lower 
Will  long  be  kept,  remembrancer  of  looks 
That  made  each  leaf  a  treasure." 

— Landon. 

CCORDING  to  the  arrangement  which  had  been 
made,  whereby  Felix  Brunnell  was  to  meet  Miss 
L  -M_\  Lunata  Rowdon  at  a  certain  country  church  on 
the  first  Sunday  morning,  subsequent  to  his 
interview  already  mentioned  with  Prof.  Parsons,  Brun 
nell  was  on  hand,  and  having  discovered  thjit  Miss 
Rowdon  had  reached  the  church  in  advance  of  him, 
he  patiently  waited  till  the  congregation  had  been  dis 
missed,  and  as  Miss  Lunata  came  to.  the  door,  he 
approached  her  and  asked  if  he  could  be  allowed  the 
pleasure  of  accompanying  her  home.  Miss  Lunata 
smiled  an  assent  even  before  she  made  any  reply,  and 
then  said,  she  believed  that  he  was  her  appointed 
company  or  her  escort  home  that  day  and  that  it  was 
expected  he  would  also  dine  with  her. 

To  this  reply,  Felix,  bowing,  thanked  her  for  the 
information,  as  well  as  for  the  pre-arranged  invitation. 

The  two  soon  mounted  their  horses,  and  Miss 
Lunata  being  an  expert  equestrienne,  their  spirited 
steeds  were  quickly  making  the  road  rattle,  as  on  they 
went  for  the  Rowdon  home. 

Rapid  riding  is  unfavorabfe  to  carrying  on  a  con 
versation,  and  not  until  more  than  half  of  the  dis 
tance  to  be  passed  had  been  put  behind  them,  did 
they  bring  the  rate  at  which  they  were  traveling  down 
to  such  a  pace  as  would  permit  a  conversation. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  411 

Brunnell  then  said  :  "I  need  hardly  ask  you,  after 
your  remarks  to  me  at  the  church  door,  if  you  fully 
understand  the  special  object  of  my  visit  to  you,  on 
this  particular  day.  I  presume  you  know  I  am  here  in 
the  interest  of  Prof.  Parsons  and  yourself,  and,  having 
had  a  full  revelation  of  the  state  of  affairs  between 
you  and  him,  I  suppose  I  may  be  said  to  be  in  your 
confidence,  so  far  as  I  am  to  become  a  participator  in 
your  proposed  early  visit  to  Ohio." 

"  Just  so,  Mr.  Brunnell ;  and  I  am  very  proud  of  the 
selection  Prof.  Parsons  has  made  in  choosing  you  as 
his  best  man.  So  far  as  your  being  my  confidant 
is  concerned,  I  assure  that  I  will  be  more  than  pleased 
to  aid  you  in  fully  understanding  just  what  will  be 
expected  of  you  on  the  night  when  I  am  to  leave 
home  in  the  company  of  him  whom  I  am  to  wed. 
attended  by  his  knightly  body-guard,  with  yourself  at 
their  head." 

"I  gave  my  promise,  Miss  Rowdon,  to  Prof.  Par 
sons,"  said  Brunnell,  "that  anything  he  desired  me  to 
do,  by  waj7  of  aiding  him  to  the  consummation  of  his 
grand  purpose,  I  was  read}T  to  perform,  and  subject  to 
his  command.  I  now  offer  you  the  same  pledge.  If  there 
is  anything  more  than  the  commands  I  received  from 
him,  that  is  needed  to  be  executed  by  me,  issue  your 
orders  and  they  will  be  obeyed.  There  can  be  no  con 
flict  in  the  arrangements  to  be  made  between  you  and 
him." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Miss  Lunata. 
"It  is  certainly  very  kind  of  you  to  accept  the  some 
what  responsible  and  risky  task  to  which  you  have 
been  assigned,  and  I  would  have  you  know  that  I 
appreciate  your  kindness  with  a  true  womanly  thank 
fulness." 


412  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

"  Do  not  consider  yourself,  Miss  Lunata,  as  being 
burdened  by  any  weight  of  gratitude,  in  consideration 
of  what  I  propose  to  do,  or  because  of  anything  I  may 
do  to  further  your  desires.  I  assure  you  it  gives  me 
pleasure  to  make  the  promise,  and  I  will  be  delighted 
to  execute  all  orders  issued  me  by  Prof.  Parsons  or 
yourself." 

'  The  accomplishment  of  my  intentions,"  said  Miss 
Rowdon,  "I  know  must  be  attended  with  considerable 
discomfort,  and  possibly  with  some  danger.  A  slight 
mistake  might  possibly  be  attended  with  ruinous 
results.  It  will,  therefore,  be  very  important  that  you 
so  familiarize  yourself  with  the  part  you  are  to  play  in 
our  life-comedy,  that  there  shall  be  no  danger  of  defeat 
from  anything  you  may  do." 

At  this  juncture  in  the  colloquy  between  Felix  and 
Miss  Lunata,  the  stiles  in  front  of  the  Rowdon.  man 
sion  were  reached ;  and,  alighting  from  their  horses, 
the  two  proceeded  to  the  house.  Upon  entering,  Miss 
Lunata  conducted  Felix  to  a  seat  in  the  parlor,  and 
asking  to  be  excused  for  a  few  moments,  passed  to  her 
room  on  the  second  floor.  Here  she  doffed  her  riding 
habit,  and  in  a  few  moments  reappeared — reappareled 
in  the  very  neatest  attire.  She  looked  the  very  imper 
sonation  of  quiet  and  fixed  resolution — in  the  eyes  of 
Felix,  a  veritable  Roman  Matrona.  Upon  the  reap 
pearance  of  Miss  Lunata,  the  pair  remained  in  the 
parlor  but  a  few  moments,  as  the  young  lady  at  once 
informed  Brunnell  that  his  first  lesson  would  be 
presented  in  another  part  of  the  house.  She  therefore 
invited  him  to  the  drawing-room.  Here  the  conversa 
tion  was  renewed  in  regard  to  her  elopement ;  and, 
inasmuch  as  she  had  discovered  from  what  he  had 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  413 

said,  that  he  was  a  kind  of  minister  plenipotentiary, 
to  act  for  Prof.  Parsons,  she  signified  her  readiness  to 
proceed  to  business  without  further  waiting.  She 
understood  just  what  instruction  would  be  necessary 
to  give  to  Felix,  and  immediately  began  to  explain  for 
him  his  first  lesson.  She  had  not  proceeded  far,  in  the 
outlining  of  his  work,  when  the  ringing  of  the  dinner- 
bell  broke  in  upon  her  lesson-giving,  and  she  politely 
invited  Mr.  Brunnell  to  accompany  her  to  the  dining- 
room  . 

It  was  in  the  role  which  Miss  Lunata  assumed  at  the 
dining-table  that  her  grace  and  elegance  appeared  to 
the  best  possible  advantage,  especially  to  him  who 
might  be  on  the  hunt  for  some  one  to  preside  as  queen 
of  his  home  and  queen  of  his  heart.  She  presided,  as 
she  did  everything  else,  with  peculiarly  attractive 
dignity.  She  enlivened  the  dining  hour  with  pleasant 
conversation  and  sparkling  sallies  of  ready  wit.  Felix 
enjoyed  his  dinner,  and  complimented  it  b}r  eating 
heartily  and  with  a  relish.  Pie  could  not  have  done 
otherwise,  for  the  cuisine  of  the  Rowdon  homestead 
was  proverbially  good. 

The  dinner  being  finished,  Miss  Lunata  and  Brun 
nell  returned  to  the  parlor,  and  for  some  little  time 
continued  the  colloquy  which  was  going  on  at  the 
time  the  announcement  for  dinner  had  been  made. 
At  length  Miss  Lunata  announced  to  Felix  that  she 
thought  it  was  about  "time  for  books,"  and  he  had 
better  re-enter  upon  the  study  of  his  lesson,  inasmuch 
as  it  had  been  set  especially  for  that  day. 

That  he  might  study  to  a  better  advantage,  Miss 
Rowdon  told  him  they  would  return  to  the  drawing- 
room.  She  did  not,  however,  take  him  directly  to- 


414  WHAT     NEXT?    OR 

that  room,  but  the  two  passed  out  of  the  front  parlor 
door  upon  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  house.  Veering  to 
the  right,  they  loitered  for  some  time  among  a  bed  of 
flowers  which  grew  in  such  a  part  of  the  yard,  as  that, 
standing  among  them,  one  would  be  in  full  view  of 
the  gate  on  the  east  side  of  the  house,  which  opened 
into  the  yard 

Rather  suddenly  Miss  Lunata  addressed  Mr.  Brun- 
nell  with  the  remark,  "  Bring  your  body-guard  to  the 
outside  of  yonder  gate  ;  (calling  his  especial  attention 
thereto)  leave  them  there,  while  you  pass  through  the 
gate,  and,  following  the  path,  come  to  a  place  that  I 
will  presently  show  you.  As  you  follow  the  path,  after 
having  passed  through  the  gate,  it  will  lead  you  to  a 
porch  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  Upon  that  porch — 
(notice  carefully  what  I  say!)  unless  some  intervening 
accident  prevents,  I  will  meet  you,  and,  by  you,  be 
conducted  to  him  who  will  be  in  wiiting  for  me,  and 
to  the  rest  of  his  company,  who,  as  friends  of  his,  I 
will  then  gladly  recognize  as  friends  of  mine." 

Miss  Rowdon  informed  Mr.  Brunnell  that  her  father 
had  a  number  of  noisy  hunting  dogs  which  might  give 
him  considerable  trouble  if  they  were  not  put  out  of  the 
way,  but  told  him  he  need  apprehend  no  danger  of  an 
alarm  being  sounded  from  that  source.  "The  negro 
men  on  our  place,11  said  she,  "are  truly  loyal  to  my 
ever}7  wish.  I  will  get  some  one  of  them  to  imprison 
the  dogs  in  the  barn  for  that  night,  and  will  get 
another  one  to  take  such  clothes  as  I  can  venture  to 
take  with  me,  and  secrete  them  from  other  eyes,  but, 
letting  me  know  just  where  they  are  concealed,  so 
that,  with  directions  from  me,  any  one  of  your  com 
pany  can  easily  find  them." 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  415 

"  Now,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Lunata,  "  we  will 
leisurely  stroll  to  another  part  of  the  yard.  Going 
westward,  you  will  notice  some  flowers  growing  near 
the  door  to  the  west  wing  of  the  building.  We  will 
halt  among  those  flowers  for  but  a  moment,  when  you 
can  call  my  attention  to  something  that  has  attracted 
your  notice  through  the  open  door,  and  we  will  then  walk 
into  the  drawing-room.  I  see  from  your  expression, 
Mr.  Brunnell,  that  you  are  growing  curious  to  know 
the  necessity  of  this  extreme  caution.  If  so,  I  may 
satisfy  your  curiosity  by  saying  that  too  much  caution 
in  a  matter  so  all-important  as  the  one  we  are  prepar 
ing  to  enact,  is  far  better  than  too  little.  There  are 
watchful  eyes  all  about  us,  and  to  so  act  as  not  to 
create  any  suspicion  is  important  at  this  particular 
time." 

"  I  neither  question  your  prudence  nor  your,  motive, 
Miss  Rowdon.  You  are  far  better  advised  in  regard  to 
the  necessity  of  practicing  a  large  amount  of  caution 
than  I  could  expect  to  be,  in  my  short  acquaintance 
with  any  of  the  facts  connected  with  your  recent 
history.  Besides,  I  am  here  to  receive  instructions  as 
to  my  personal  duties  in  the  matter  before  us,  and  not 
to  criticise  anything  you  may  say  or  do.  It  is  your 
province  in  this  case  to  teach  and  mine  to  be  taught." 

"Well,  never  mind  about  any  dissertation  upon  the 
subject  of  duty.  We  have  too  important  a  lesson  that 
must  be  learned,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  "to  raise  the 
question  as  to  how  or  why  it  has  to  be  learned  after  a 
certain  style  of  instruction.  Follow  me  therefore  into 
the  library,  and  learn  another  letter  in  the  alphabet  of 
your  duty." 


416  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

Brunnell  obeyed,  and  as  the  pair  stood  before  a 
picture,  as[though  they  were  contemplating  its  beauty, 
Miss  Lunata  said,  in  a  muffled  voice:  "From  this 
room  I  am  to  make  my  escape — from  this  room,  unless 
foiled  in  the  attempt,  I  am  to  fly  from  the  demands  of 
a  father,  who  claims  the  sacrifice  of  my  affections, 
and  who  would  fain  lay  them  upon  an  altar,  before 
which  filial  respect  rebels.  From  this  room,  I  am  to  hie 
me  away  in  quest  of  a  larger  freedom,  and  the  right 
to  decide,  as  I  have  done,  with  whom  I  am  to  wed." 

This  information,  as  well  as  instruction,  Miss 
Lunata  imparted  as  they  paused  before  the  picture 
which  each  was  assuming  to  admire. 

As  they^passed  a  rose-bush,  growing  hard  by  the 
door  through  which  they  had  passed,  Miss  Lunata 
plucked  two  buds  therefrom,  and  as  they  stood  before 
the  picture,  she  gave  one  of  the  buds  to  Mr.  Brunnell, 
and 'told  him  to  present  it  to  Prof.  Parsons,  with  a  history 
of  the  circumstances*  under  which  it  left  its  parent 
stem.  "Tell  him,"  said  Miss  Lunata,  '"  to  wear  it  till 
it  fades,  and  then  to  preserve  the  leaves  as  a  reminder 
of  the  fact  th?t  they  grew  by  the  door  of  the  home 
from  which  I  will  [fly  to  seek  the  protection  which  I 
shall  find  with  him.  Tell  him  that  I  send  it  with  no 
emblematic  language' 'save  that,  in  its  fading,  it  still 
preserves  the  aroma;:ofjtits  young  life.  Tell  him  I  will 
keep  its  mate  and  when  we  shall  have  been  made  one, 
we  will  blend  the  faded  leaves  of  both,  and  preserve 
them  in  a  common  receptacle,  as  a  historic  item  of 
human  history,  which  willfshow  that  the  loves  of 
human  hearts  can  not  be  tramped  out  by  a  cruel  usur 
pation  of  even  parrntal  authority." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  417 

Continuing,  still  in  sotto  vocc,  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon 
said:  "  Within  this  room  will  be  enacted  the  perilous 
part  of  my  quitting  the  home  of  my  childhood,  to 
share  the  fortune  of  him  who  has  won  my  esteem, 
won  my  affections,  won  my  heart,  and  will  I  hope, 
soon  win  my  hand.  From  yonder  door,  which  opens 
upon  a  rear  porch,  I  am  to  make  my  exit.  What  the 
result  of  the  step  I  am  to  take,  in  making  that  exit,  is 
something  that  belongs  to  the  unwritten  history  of  the 
future." 

Addressing  Miss  Lunata  with  a  decided  show  of 
pleasantry,  Mr.  Brunnell  said:  "I  perceive,  Miss 
Rowdon,  that  you  are  so  deeply  interested  in  the  out 
come  of  the  history  you  are  proposing  to  have  a  hand 
in  helping  to  write,  that  you  are  growing  forgetful  of 
the  work  you  have  before  you." 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Brunnell,  for  my  apparent  forget- 
fulness,"  said  Miss  Lunata.  "  It  is  really  true  that  I 
am  most  profoundly  interested  in  what  is  to  be  the 
issue  of  my  contemplated  marriage.  It  would  be  a 
fearful  mistake,  if  I  make  a  mistake  at  all,  and  you 
must  not  therefore  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
sometimes  shudder  at  the  risk  I  am  taking." 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  make  a  prophecy,  in 
regard  to  the  risk  to  which  you  allude,  I  think  I  can, 
with  a  large  share  of  confidence,  say  to  you,  that  I 
think  you  run  no  risk  whatever  in  trusting  yourself  to 
the  care  and  kindness  of  Prof.  Parsons.  I  believe  he 
will  study  your  comfort,  and  liberally  provide  for  your 
every  want.  I  believe  he  will  contribute  to  your  hap 
piness  by  ten  thousand  endearments  such  as  a  truly 
brave,  sober,  energetic  and  honest  man  only  can 

WHAT  NEXT? — 27. 


418  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

bestow.  I  believe  you  will  always  have  reason  to  be 
proud  of  him,  and  I  know  he  will  be  proud  of 
you.  I  believe,  furthermore,  that  you  will  thank 
fortune  for  the  pluck  that  enabled  you  to  moke 
the  exit,  to  which  you  have  alluded,  with  the  view  of 
joining  Prof.  Parsons  in  the  journej"  of  life.  If  I  did 
not  believe  every  word  I  say,  I  would  be  wholly  and 
resolutely  opposed  to  offering  my  help  towards  putting 
your  hand  in  his,  that  you  may  become  his  wife." 

''Your  very  superior  worth,  Miss  Rowdon,"  con 
tinued  Brunnell,  "is  of  such  a  character  as  to  make 
your  heart  and  hand  jewels  which  justify  a  notable 
competition  in  securing.  Prof.  Parsons  has  dealt  the 
lucky  throw.  You  have  given  him  your  heart,  and  he 
only  waits  to  claim  your  hand,  that  his  casket  of  jewels 
may  be  then  made  full." 

"I  am  a  little  afraid,"  responded  Miss  Rowdon, 
''  that  you  are  dealing  in  a  bit  of  flattery  in  speaking 
of  my  worth  ;  or,  if  in  real  earnestness  in  what  you 
have  said,  that  you  overestimate  my  real  value." 

''I  am  not  indulging  in  flattery,  Miss  Rowdon. 
There  is  enough  of  real  genuine  worthiness,  and 
intrinsic  value  in  you,  to  put  flattery  at  a  big  discount, 
in  mentioning  your  superb  characteristics.  Nor  do  I 
overestimate  your  real  value,  if  that  value  is  to  be 
weighed  in  the  scales  of  public  opinion.  The  truth  is, 
Miss  Rowdon,  I  almost  envy  the  Professor  his  good 
luck  ;  but,  believe  me,  I  would  not  even  dare  to  covet 
that  which  is  his  by  right  of  a  priority  of  claim,  as 
well  as  by  a  superiority  of  merit.  He  is,  in  every  way, 
worthy  of  a  splendid  specimen  of  womanhood  as  a 
companion  in  the  pilgrimage  upon  which  he  very  soon 
proposes  to  start.  Parsons  has  honestly  won  his  prize. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  419 

He  has  practiced  neither  deception  nor  hypocrisy  in 
playing  his  game,  and  I  realty,  believe  that  if  practic 
ing  either  had  been  necessary  to  success,  he  would 
have  scorned  the  idea,  and  given  up  the  thought  of 
securing  you  for  his  wife.  I  do  not  believe  you  need 
harbor  any  fear,  or  nurse  a  shadow  of  anxiety  as  to 
his  honesty  of  purpose,  or  that  he  will  prove  himself 
to  be  other  than  your  most  earnest  desires  would  have 
him  be.  But  to  my  lesson,  Miss  Rowdon,  lest  in  the 
waste  of  time,  I  shall  fail  to  learn  that  lesson  well." 

''Yes,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  "I  want 
the  part  which  you  are  to  play. in  this  transaction  to 
be  so  perfectly  mastered  by  you,  that  that  there  can  be 
no  possibility  of  'a  slip  twixt  cup  and  lip,'  through 
any  mistake  of  your  making." 

"As  I  have  already  said,  through  yonder  door  I 
must  make  my  exit  to  meet  you,  as  my  temporary 
chaperon,  when  the  time  for  my  going  comes.  The 
night  will  be  dark,  but  with  the  quickened  hearing 
which  excitement  and  continued  watching  will  neces 
sarily  produce.  I  think  I  can  catch  the  sound  of  your 
foot-fall,  be  it  ever  so  stealthy.  Hearing  your  steps,  I 
will  immediately  open  the  door  and  step  out  on  the 
porch  to  meet  you,  and  put  myself  under  your  guid 
ance." 

At  this  point  in  the  conversation,  Miss  Rowdon 
stepped  to  the  door  indicated,  and  casting  a  glance 
across  the  yard  and  seeing  nothing  that  would  indicate 
the  presence  of  dangerous  onlookers,  she  invited  Mr. 
Brunnell  to  step  out  upon  the  porch  that  he  might 
make  another  important  eye  survey.  Going  a  few 
feet  from  the  edge  of  the  porch,  she  told  him  he  could, 
from  that  point,  see  the  whole  of  the  way  over  which 


420  WHAT     NEXT?  OR 

he  would  have  to  pass  from  the  gate  already  pointed 
out,  to  the  porch  upon  which  she  was  to  meet  him. 
Following  Miss  Rowdon's  lead,  they  both  stepped  back 
upon  the  edge  of  the  porch  again,  immediately  in 
front  of  the  door  through  which  they  had  just  come ; 
Miss  Rowdon  then  said  to  Brunnell :  "Just  here,  you 
must  halt  on  the  eventful  night,  for,  as  long  as  you  do  not 
put  yourself  in  or  on  any  part  of  the  house,  you  could 
hardly  be  considered  a  violator  of  any  specific  law. 
You  need  have  no  fear  but  that  I  will  be  apprised  of 
your  approach.  In  the  stillness  of  the  midnight  hour, 
methinks  I  could  almost  hear  your  breathing  when 
you  shall  have  reached  the  place  designated.  Being 
in  readiness,  and  in  waiting,  just  here  I  will  put  my 
hand  in  yours  to  be  led  to  him  who  has  become  the 
idol  of  this  poor  girlish  heart.'' 

"  Now,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  "  as  the 
restfulness  of  a  beautiful  Sunday  afternoon  seems  to 
be  abiding  in  holj1  quietude  upon  everything  about  us, 
I  will  hazard  the  risk,  while  here,  of  giving  you 
another  view  of  these  grounds  and  of  the  gate,  which, 
when  it  shall  have  closed  behind  us,  will  perhaps  shut 
me  out  forever  from  the  joys  of  my  girlish  life." 

Felix  Brunnell  having  noticed  that  tears  stood 
threatningly  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair  speaker,  and  that 
there  was  the  emotional  quiver  in  her  lips  as  she 
spoke,  said  to  her  that  the  signs  of  disquietude 
and  trouble  which  she  exhibited,  gave  him  pain,  and 
that  he  was  sure  Prof.  Parsons  himself  would  feel 
grieved  to  know,  that,  in  her  talk  with  him,  he  had 
discovered  even  an  unfallen  tear,  or  detected  the 
unheard  sigh,  by  the  quiver  of  her  lips,  as  she  essayed 
to  speak.  "  For  my  sake,  as  the  chosen  emissary  of 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  421 

your  betrothed,  I  insist,  Miss  Rovvdon,  that  you  cheer 
up,  and  do  not  send  me  back  to  him  with  dispiriting 
information  in  regard  to  your  mental  condition." 

In  reply,  Miss  Rowdon  assured  Mr.  Brunnell  that 
she  felt  heartily  ashamed  of  herself  for  exhibiting  such 
weakness,  and  made  him  promise  that  the  little  episode, 
which  had  just  transpired,  should  not  be  mentioned  to 
Prof.  Parsons.  ''You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Brunnell," 
said  she,  "  for  my  exhibited  excitement  ;  and,  for  my 
sake  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  your  friend,  pardon 
please,  my  frequent  mention  of  the  change  I  am  about 
to  make  in  my  separation  from  home  and  embarking 
upon  an  unknown  sea.  My  head  is  full  of  it.  My 
heart  is  full  of  it;  and,  out  of  the  fullness  of  both 
head  and  heart,  my  mouth  will,  despite  the  dictates  of 
my  better  judgment,  prate  about  what  is  soon  to  be 
the  first  daring  exhibition  of  my  disobedience  to 
parental  authority.  The  closing  of  the  east  gate 
behind  me,  and  my  going  away  to  plaj7  a  new  part  in 
the  drama  of  what  maj*  prove  to  be  an  eventful  life,  is 
indeed  a  thrilling  reflection.  Oh  !  how  my  heart  grows 
restive  at  the  thought.  Oh !  how  my  whole  being 
seems  to  tingle,  in  anticipation  of  the  change  I  am  to 
make,  and,  for  my  shuddering  anxiety  in  regard  to  the 
move  I  am  so  soon  to  make,  T  hope,  Mr.  Brunnell, 
you  can  plead  an  excuse.  I  am  but  an  inexperienced 
girl,  and  instead  of  being  censured  for  what  I  am  pro 
posing  to  do.  I  need  gracious  counsel,  and  considerate 
sympathy.  Give  me  your  counsel,  Mr.  Brunnell,  and 
help  me  to  believe  that  while  that  gate  shuts  me  out 
from  a  peculiar  kind  of  life — a  life  of  tyranny  over  my 
affections,  and  under  which  I  have  grown  restive,  that 
I  am  doing  right.  Tell  me  that  the  matrimonial  gate 


422  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

leads  to  fairer  fields  and  brighter  joys  !  Tell  me  that 
the  tyrannized  spirit  of  this  poor  girl  can  there  drink 
from  a  fountain  that  will  cure  the  ills  superinduced  by 
a  forced  insubordination  !" 

"  I  have  already  indicated,  Miss  Rowdon,  what  I 
thought  of  the  course  you  were  pursuing  with  regard 
to  the  exercising  of  your  own  judgment  in  the  selection 
of  a  partner  for  life  ;  I  have  likewise  been  very 
emphatic  in  regard  to  my  opinion  as  to  the  choice  you 
have  made.  I  hardly  know  how  to  emphasize  what  I 
have  already  said,  so  as  to  have  what  I  might  say 
more  comforting  to  you.  Life  is  a  kind  of  a  game  of 
chance  any  way,  and  the  lucky  are  winners.  I  think 
you  have  drawn  a  winning  card  and  ought  certainly  to 
be  satisfied  with  your  play.  There  are  many  splendid 
girls  scattered  all  over  this  country  who  would  like  to 
hold  your  hand  in  this  matrimonial  game.  There  are 
many  among  them  who  will  be  jealous  over  your  good 
luck,  and  I  really  think  you  have  been  especially  for 
tunate  in  making  the  choice  3'ou  have." 

"  It  is  unfortunate  I  have  to  crave  pardon  so  often, 
Mr.  Brunnell,  but,  really,  you  will  have  to  look  over 
my  imperfections,  and  again  allow  my  peculiar 
environments  to  plead  in  m}T  behalf  for  allowing 
excitement  to  get  the  better  of  me  again.  Your 
opinion  of  Prof.  Parsons,  let  it  be  ever  so  exalted,  can 
not  compare  with  the  estimation  I  put  upon  his  real 
worth.  What  I  said,  was  not  that  I  entertained  a 
shadow  of  doubt  as  to  his  proving  to  be  all  that  you 
claimed  for  him,  but,  notwithstanding  I  have  such  an 
exalted  opinion  of  his  real  worth,  I  cannot  beat  back 
the  excitement  which  the  anticipated  change  produces. 
But  dismissing  the  further  consideration  of  the  ordeal 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  423 

through  which  I  am  being  passed,  Mr.  Brunnell,  and 
bidding  the  excitement  under  which  I  have  been  labor 
ing  to  be  quiet,  let  us  come  again  to  business.  I  will 
at  least  try  to  be  more  composed." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  thus,"  responded 
Brunnell.  "  I  am  glad  for  two  reasons  :  First,  I  am 
glad  on  your  account.  Allowing  your  emotional  nature 
to  get  the  better  of  your  reflecting  faculties  must  neces 
sarily  have  an  exhausting  effect  upon  your  body,  and 
you  may  so  wear  yourself  as  to  defeat  the  execution  of 
the  very  purpose  for  which  I  am  here  to  aid  you.  Sec 
ondly,  I  am  glad  on  account  of  my  friend  Parsons, 
who  will  be  comforted  to  hear  that  you  are  bravely 
bearing  the  strain  that  is  at  present  upon  you." 

"  Enough  !  Mr.  Brunnell.  I  am  convinced  that  you 
are  right.  A  very  recent  spell  of  illness  I  passed 
through,  I  have  no  doubt,  owed  its  origin  to  the  same 
kind  of  struggle  as  the  one  through  which  I  am  now 
passing.  But  my  resolution,  from  this  moment,  is 
fixed.  I  intend  to  rise  superior  to  doubt,  anxiety 
or  fear.  You  shall  have  no  reason  to  bear  any  message 
to  Prof.  Parsons,  save  one  that  will  comfort  him  ; 
which  is,  that  I  am  ready.  If  for  immolation,  the 
sacrifice  is  in  waiting.  If  for  being  crowned  with 
ecstatic  bliss,  this  head  is  ready  to  be  bared,  that  his 
hand  may  place  the  coronet." 

"Enough  !  Say  I  too,  Miss  Rowdon  ;  I  feel  assured 
that  you  will  now  be  true  to  your  new  resolve,  and  no 
more  fitful  flashes  of  despondency  will  be  allowed  to 
darken  your  mental  horizon.  Now  that  you  seem  to 
be  your  real  self  again,  I  will  listen  to  any  other 
instruction  you  may  have  to  give  me." 


424  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

"  Step  this  way,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Miss  Rowdon. 
Obeying  the  command,  Brunnell  found  himself  stand 
ing  in  the  yard,  almost  due  west  from  the  gate  which 
had  been  pointed  out  to  him  from  the  front  lawn. 
Brunnell  took  a  leisurely  survey  of  the  whole  sur 
roundings,  and  so  perfect  a  picture  of  the  whole 
was  made  upon  his  mind,  that  he  believed  he  could 
thread  his  waj7  to  any  part  of  the  yard,  even  amid 
the  darkness  of  the  blackest  night. 

Brunnell  knew  the  gravity  of  the  part  that  Par 
sons  had  assigned  him  to  perform,  and,  knowing  this, 
the  paramount  importance  of  a  careful  and  scrutiniz 
ing  examination  of  the  whole  ground  became  a  matter 
that  he  wanted  so  perfectly  impressed  upon  his  mind, 
as  to  make  it  next  to  an  impossibility  to  make  a  mis 
take.  He  was  consequent!}7  ready  to  listen  to  every 
suggestion  that  Miss  Rowdon  had  to  offer.  After  he 
had  made  a  careful  eye-survey  of  the  whole  premises, 
he  remarked  to  her,  that  so  far  as  that  view  was  con 
cerned,  he  thought  if  he  were  a  good  limner,  he  could 
go  away  and  draw  a  picture  from  memory,  of  what  lay 
before  them,  which  would  be  so  perfect  that  she  would, 
upon  seeing  it,  recognize  it  as  a  view  of  that  particular 
landscape. 

"Do  you  think  then,"  said  Miss  Rowdon,  "that 
with  the  general  and  specific  examination  which  you 
have  made,  together  with  such  explanations  as  I  have 
given,  as  to  where  you  must  come — where  I  will  be, 
and  what  you  must  do,  that  you  will  be  able  to. reach 
the  precise  spot  for  our  meeting,  be  it  ever  so  dark  ?  " 

This  question  was  asked  as  the  two  sauntered  back 
to  the  drawing-room,  and  in  reply  thereto,  Brunnell 
remarked  that  the  seriousness  of  his  impressions, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  425 

while  she  had  been  giving  him  her  instructions,  had  so 
stamped  ever3'thing  he  had  heard  or  seen  upon  his 
mind,  that  he  verily  believed  he  could  find  his  way 
blind-folded  from  the  gate  indicated,  to  the  very  place 
where  he  was  to  meet  her. 

"  I  am  very  proud,  Mr.  Brunnell,  that,  as  the  repre 
sentative  of  Prof.  Parsons,  you  have  made  yourself 
such  an  interested  explorer  of  all  the  ground,  over 
which  you  are  soon  to  travel  in  coming  to  my  rescue  ; 
that  you  have  so  patiently  listened  to  all  the  informa 
tion  I  thought  you  ought  to  have.  and.  by  which,  you 
might  be  fully  informed  as  to  what  you  were  expected 
to  do.  I  now  desire  to  say,  that  patient  waiting  upon 
my  instruction,  and  your  words  of  sympathy  for  me, 
in  my  momentary  excitement,  have  brought  me  under 
very  great  obligations  to  you.  For  myself,  therefore, 
as  well  as  for  Prof.  Parsons,  I  desire  to  offer  you  my 
grateful  thanks." 

''You  are  under  no  obligations  whatever  to  me, 
Miss  Rowdon.  What  I  am  doing  and  what  I  propose 
to  do,  are.  and  will  be,  missions  of  friendship.  I  am 
no  less  interested  in  your  prospect  for  happiness  in 
what  you  are  about  to  assume,  than  I  am  in  the  per 
sonal  success  of  Prof.  Parsons  in  securing  the  final 
ownership  of  what  he  has  the  right  to  believe  is  justly 
his.  If  I  have,  so  far.  discharged  my  duty  to  your 
satisfaction,  I  am  proud  to  know  it,  and  will  pledge 
myself  to  be  no  less  faithful  in  what  remains  for  me 
to  do,  than  I  have,  with  your  help,  already  done. 
One  question,  however,  with  your  permission,  I  would 
like  to  ask  you.', 

"  Most  assuredly,  Mr.  Brunnell,"  said  Miss  Rowdon. 
''  You  can  ask  any  question  which  is  germane  to  the 


426  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

subject  we  have  under  consideration.  Your  friendship 
and  disinterested  kindness  would  warrant  me  in 
answering  any  number  of  questions  you  might  see  fit 
to  propound  ;  especially,  if  the  information  you  seek 
is  in  regard  to  the  business  for  which  you  were  depu 
tized  to  make  this  visit.  Anything,  therefore,  relative 
to  my  elopement,  or  pertaining  to  preparation  there 
for,  I  will,  if  in  my  power,  most  cheerfully  communi 
cate  to  you." 

''  The  question  I  have  in  my  mind,  Miss  Rowdon,  is 
one  which  is  directly  connected  with  your  leave-taking; 
and,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  Prof.  Parsons  has  said 
nothing  to  me  about  that  to  which  the  question 
relates,  I  have  decided  to  submit  the  question  to  you. 
Before  doing  so,  however,  let  me  say,  that  the  reason 
why  Prof.  Parsons  failed  to  say  anything  about  what 
I  want  to  learn  from  you,  was  because  of  sheer  forget- 
fulness  by  him,  as  well  as  by  me.  My  question  is 
this.  Do  you  propose  to  have  any  young  lady  friend 
to  attend  you  in  your  flight?" 

"  In  answer  to  your  query  upon  the  point  men 
tioned,"  replied  Miss  Rowdon,  "I  have  this  to  say.  I 
took  the  matter  of  having  a  young  lady  to  accompany 
me,  under  careful  advisement,  and  after  looking  at  it 
in  all  its  bearings  and  consulting  Prof.  Parsons  about 
the  propriety  of  my  gqing  without  any  female  attend 
ant,  I  deliberately  concluded,  for  several  reasons,  that 
it  would  be  the  safest  and  the  best  arrangement  to  take 
no  lady  with  me.  Among  the  several  reasons  which 
urged  me  to  this  course,  no  one  was  more  potent  than 
the  fact  that  there  is,  in  our  neighborhood,  a  very  dear, 
good  girl  to  whom  I  am  most  devotedly  attached,  and 
whose  company  I  would  have  preferred  to  that  of  any 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  427 

one  else;  but,  I  knew  it  would  not  do  to  have  her 
attend  me.  I  knew  that  if  she  went,  it  would  create 
an  incurable  alienation  between  my  father  and  her 
father's  household.  I  did  not  want  to  be  the  cause  of 
engendering  ill  feeling  between  families  wherein, 
through  long  years,  had  existed  the  strongest  bonds  of 
neighborly  friendship." 

"  I  cannot  refrain  from  saying  to  you,  Miss  Rowdon, 
that,  while  you  have  presented  no  other  reason  for  the 
decision  you  reached,  in  regard  to  going  without  any 
female  attendant,  I  must  most  heartily  commend  you 
for  your  thoughtful  consideration  of  the  interest  of 
your  young  friend,  and  the  sacrifice  you  are  making  to 
shield  her  family  from  the  censure  of  your  father.  In 
this  thoughtful  decision,  there  is  certainly  an  evidence 
of  the  purity  and  goodness  which  are  ruling  principles 
in  your  nature." 

"There  is  a  Bible  injunction,  Mr.  Brunnell,  which 
says  :  We  must  love  our  neighbors  as  ourselves,  and  in 
the  case  of  Miss  Florence  Sumner — the  associate  chum 
to  whom  I  alluded,  I  think  I  complied  with  the  Bible 
behest.  It  is  a  terrible  sacrifice  for  me  to  consent  to 
go  without  her,  and  it  was  only  because  my  sense  of 
right  dominated  in  the  case,  that  I  decided  to  go 
alone." 

"What  has  Prof.  Parsons  not  won  in  winning  you!" 
said  Brunnell.  ''With  the  clear-sighted  judgment  which 
you  evince,  what  a  pilot  you  will  make  for  the  life-boat 
upon  which  you  are  so  soon  to  embark.  Upon  a 
smooth  sea,  you  will  be  a  comforter,  and  in  the  midst 
of  a  storm  you  will  be  a  counselor." 


428  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

''  Your  enthusiasm  over  Prof.  Parsons'  prize  winning, 
as  you  style  it,  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Brunnell,  will  put  an 
estoppel  upon  further  presentation  of  1113*  reasons  for 
not  choosing  company  to  go  with  me." 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Rowdon,  for  interrupting  you.  I 
ought  to  have  been  more  thoughtful.  But  I  have 
become  so  interested  in  this  matter  and  its  outcome, 
that  I  am  sure  you  can  overlook  my  violation  of  one  of 
the  rules  of  politeness.  It  was  an  inadvertenc}'.  You 
must  condone  it,  and  begin  where  you  left  off." 

''  Remember,  Mr.  Brunnell,  that  I  had  just  told  you 
why  I  decided  not  to  take  Miss  Sumner  with  me,  and 
the  pain  it  gave  me  to  go  without  her;  and.  beginning 
where  I  left  off,  as  you  say,  I  want  to  say  to  you  that 
the  amount  of  my  grief  is  greatly  increased  because  of 
the  anxiety  which  Florence  Sumner  manifests  to  go 
with  me.  Prudence  suggests  that  I  shall  not  take  her, 
and  inasmuch  as  I  cannot  have  her  company — the 
dearest  female  friend,  outside  of  my  own  home  circle, 
that  I  have  ever  had,  I  have  fully  determined  that  no 
one  else  shall  be  invited  to  fill  the  place  that  is  hers  by 
right  of  a  devoted  friendship." 

"  Another  evidence,  Miss  Rowdon,  that  you  carry  a 
heart  large  enough  to  give  lodgement  to  a  devotional 
love,  and  a  sacred  friendship  at  one  and  the  same 
time — another  evidence  of  the  fact  that  your  loyalty 
to  him,  who  has  won  your  heart,  and  a  right  to  your 
hand,  has  broken  no  link  in  the  chain  which  binds 
you  to  the  eacred  friendships  of  the  days  'lang 
syne." 

"  My  friendships,  Mr.  Brunnell,  I  thmk,  suffer  not 
the  waste  from  wyear,  that  makes  them  profitless.  They 
are  not  ephemeral.  They  live  with  me,  nor  fade 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  429 

under  adversity's  chilling  winds.  When  once  bound 
by  friendship's  chain,  I  glory  in  keeping  the  links 
thereof  bright ;  and,  when  one  link  is  broken,  the  per 
fidious  hand,  that  glories  in  the  severance,  leaves  a 
sting  in  the  heart  of  her  who  deplores  the  existence 
of  unfaithfulness." 

"You  are  still  augmenting  the  proofs  of  your  inesti 
mable  worth,  Miss  Rowdon.  Higher  and  still  higher 
in  my  estimation  do  you  climb  as  the  expositions  are 
made  of  your  true  character,  and  when  I  return  to 
Prof.  Parsons  to  make  my  report  as  to  the  success  of 
my  mission,  it  will  be  interlarded  throughout  with 
compliments  to  your  good  sense — good  taste  and — 
what  shall  I  say?  Yes,  I  have  it,  your  good  looks. 
To  him  I  can  further  say,  that  I  commend  his  good 
generalship — compliment  his  good  taste — envy  him 
his  good  luck,  and  yet  wish  him  abundant  success  in 
whatever  he  undertakes." 

"  And  you  might  add,  Mr.  Brunnell,  when  you  take 
me  to  him  through  the  darkness  of  the  midnight 
gloom,  that  although  I  go  with  him  unattended  by 
any  female  companion,  I  will  put  my  hand  in  his, 
feeling  that  with  that  hand  to  protect  me,  I  am  pan 
oplied  by  all  the  defensive  armor  that  an  innocent  and 
confiding  girl  need  ask.  His  devotion  to  my  interest 
—his  pledges  for  my  protection — his  earnest  avowals 
of  uncompromising  fealty  to  my  wishes  are  all  the 
guarantees  I  desire.  I  know  I  shall  be  safe  with 
him." 

"  How  proud  it  makes  me  feel,  Miss  Rowdon,  to 
hear  you  thus  express  yourself.  If  I  had  ever  had  the 
slightest  misgiving  as  to  the  correctness  of  my  playing 
the  part,  which  was  assigned  me  in  this  matter,  the 


430  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

last  shadow  of  that  doubt  would  have  vanished  before 
the  stubborn  facts  that  stared  me  in  the  face,  even 
before  a  tithe  of  my  mission  had  been  completed. 
There  has  been  a  display  of  careful,  thoughtful,  and 
honest  investigations  of  the  matters  considered  which 
is  not  often  paralleled  in  this,  or  any  other  country. 
There  has  been  none  of  the  hap-hazard  recklessnes-s  in 
what  you  have  done.  Recklessness,  if  unfortunate  as 
is  often  seen  in  cases  of  rebellion  against  parental 
authority,  when  such  authority  is  brought  into  antago 
nism  with  filial  wishes,  is  to  he  deplored. 

''  If  ever  I  have  known  a  case  in  which  full  justifi 
cation  could  be  plead  for  open  revolt  against  paternal 
demands,  I  think,  Miss  Rowdon,  you  will  stand  acquit 
ted,  in  the  light  of  our  present  civilization,  before 
Heaven's  tribunal  and  among  men.  The  facts  in  your 
case  will  no  sooner  become  generally  known,  than  an 
almost  universal  verdict  of  the  men  and  women  of 
this  country  will  be  rendered  in  your  favor,  for  every 
one  will  commend  your  course,  and  say  you  did 
right." 

"  My  father,  Mr.  Brunnell,  will  feel  keenly  the 
defeat,  which  my  course  will  show  him  he  has  sus 
tained.  He  will  fairly  storm  our  immediate  home 
region,  when  he  shall  have  discovered  that  I  am  gone. 
But  let  his  ranting  be  what  it  may.  I  do  not  intend 
to  give  that  father  any  justifiable  grounds  for  raising 
a  disturbance  with  his  neigbors.  I  do  not  intend  to 
do  anything,  or  say  anything,  that  will  subject  any  one 
to  his  ire. 

"  My  going  unattended  by  female  friends,  may  put 
the  tongues  of  gossip-mongers  in  motion,  Mr.  Brun 
nell.  Their  wagging  will,  however,  not  disturb  me. 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  431 

I  shall  carry  awajr  with  me  a  clean  conscience,  and 
will  return  with  enmity  in  my  soul  against  no  human 
being.  I  will  go  away  believing  that  He  who  rules 
the  destinies  of  men  will  not  look  with  disfavor  upon 
what  I  am  doing,  and  I  will  return  to  beg  for  His  mercy, 
if  in  aught,  I  have  done  that  which  is  wrong.  Let 
gossippers  grow  garrulous  about  my  defying  the  usages 
of  the  times,  in  my  going  without  a  female  chaperon. 
Let  such  loquacious  babblers  talk  on.  What  they  say 
will  damage  the  idle  tattlers  more  than  it  will  me. 
Those  who  will  criticise  me,  will  do  so,  because  they 
do  not  understand  my  reasons  for  acting  as  I  propose 
to  do.  If  they  did,  all  criticisms,  I  am  sure,  would 
be  withheld,  or  turned  into  outspoken  justification  of 
my  prudence." 

"I  feel  assured  of  one  fact,  in  connection  with  many 
others,  Miss  Rowdon,  which  have  arisen  out  of  your 
determination  to  cany  forward  your  plans,  and  to  exe 
cute  them  according  to  your  own  judgment.  It  is  this. 
Critics  may  say  what  they  please  about  what  you  do,  and 
cavilers  may  captiously  condemn  your  setting  aside  a 
common  custom,  but  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  will 
weigh  anything,  as  compared  with  the  righteous  ap 
proval  of  your  own  conscience,  and  the  justification 
of  your  course  by  all  good  people. 

"But,  Miss  Rowdon,  the  evening  is  waning;  and, 
inasmuch  as  I  have  completed  the  mission  to  which  I 
was  appointed,  let  me,  before  leaving  you,  compliment 
you  on  your  rare  talent  for  coupling  business  with 
pleasure.  My  visit,  I  assure  you,  has  been  an  exceed 
ingly  delightful  one.  I  desire  likewise  to  assure  you 
that  a  large  part  of  my  delight  must  be  attributed  to 
the  fact  that  my  mission  has  been  one  of  mercy — 


432  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

mercj"  to  two  young  people  who  are  making  a  stubborn 
fight  against  the  tyrannical  decrees  which  have  sought 
to  keep  them  apart.  Wear  a  brave  heart !  I  can  but 
believe  that  all  things  will  go  well  with  you," 

"  I  suppose,  Miss  Rowdon,  our  next  meeting  will  be 
at  the  edge  of  the  porch — the  place  you  have  indicated 
as  the  spot  where  you  will  put  yourself  under  my  pro 
tection  as  the  escort  who  will  lead  you  to  the  orchard 
gate.  At  that  point  I  will  resign  my  charge,  and  Prof. 
Parsons  will  take  you  under  his  especial  quardianship, 
to  live  for  you,  to  protect  you  and  to  love  you.  I  hope 
no  accident  may  occur  to  thwart  our  meeting  at  the 
appointed  time,  and  now  while  I  offer  you  my  hand  in 
friendly  adieu,  let  me  with  that  adieu  congratulate  you, 
in  advance  of  your  union,  upon  the  very  judicious 
choice  you  have  made.  Prof.  Parsons  is  one  of  nature's 
noblemen,  and  richly  deserves  the  prize  he  has  won." 

With  this  parting  salutation,  Brunnell  passed  out  of 
the  house,  and  by  a  rapid  ride  was  soon  in  the 
company  of  his  friend  Parsons,  to  whom  he  made  a 
full  report  of  everything  that  had  been  said  •  and 
done, not  forgetting  to  give  him  the  rosebud,  with  Miss 
Rowdon's  accompanying  message. 

The  success  of  Brunnell's  expedition  being  fully 
presented,  he  mounted  his  horse — rode  away,  and  left 
Parsons  to  ponder  over  it.  and  in  the  midst  of  his. 
musings  to  ask  himself  once  again — What  Next? 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"Oh  !  how  impatience  grows  upon  the  soul, 
When  the  long  promie'd  hour  of  joy  draws  near! 
How  slow  the  tardy  moments  se«m  to  roll! 
When  spectres  rise  of  inconsistent  fear." 

—Mrs.  Tighe. 

' HE  school  which  John  Parsons  had  been  so  suc- 
cessfully  conducting,  and  in  which  all  of  his 
patrons,  with  two  exceptions  only,  had  taken 
such  deep  interest,  and,  about  which  they  spoke 
in  unstinted  measures  of  praise,  was  closed  without 
any  special  ceremony  or  ostentatious  display.  A  few 
of  his  most  devoted  friends  came  out  on  the  closing 
day  to  extend  to  him  the  warm-hearted  and  commen 
datory  grasp  of  their  hands  in  parting  with  him,  and 
in  silence  then  to  walk  away;  not,  however,  without 
carrying  away  with  them  a  large  share  of  suppressed 
indignation  over  the  loss  of  so  good  a  teacher  as  Prof. 
Parsons  had  shown  himself  to  be.  No  word  or  com 
ment  was  made  or  reason  offered  why  the  school  was 
to  close  sine  die.  The  pupils  looked  inquisitive,  but 
no  one  of  them  dared  to  ask  their  teacher  why  he 
intended  to  leave  them.  They  had  learned  that  his 
going  away  was  involved  in  what  they  considered  a 
mystery,  and  that  the  mystery  was  of  such  a  character 
as  to  be  unintelligible  to  them,  but  that  it  cast  no 
shadow  of  wrong-doing  upon  his  part-— that  in  leaving 
them  he  would  go  from  their  midst  with  a  reputation 
as  unsullied  as  that  which  he  brought  with  him  when 
he  came  among  them.  There  was  a  kind  of  subdued 
murmur  of  dissatisfaction  among  the  younger  pupils 
especially,  as  they  gathered  up  their  books  for  a  final 
leave-taking.  There  was  evident  disappointment 

WHAT  .«KT?— 38 


434  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

among  them  at  the  thought  of  giving  up  the  teacher  to 
whom  they  had  become  so  endeared,  and  as,  one  by 
one,  they  marched  up  to  the  dais  to  bid  the  young 
educator  good- by,  many  of  their  usually  bright,  spark 
ling  eyes  were  suffused  with  tears  ;  but  they  passed 
out,  and  he  who  had  kindly,  diligently  and  honestly 
led  them  through  the  intricacies  of  what  were  trouble 
some  to  them — he  who  had  won  their  esteem  by  a 
course  of  sympathizing  kindness — he  who  was  not  only 
a  teacher  but  a  leader,  was  their  leader  no  more. 

Prof.  Parsons  and  Charlie  Kirtland  left  the  neighbor 
hood  without  delay,  and  as  they  rode  away  together, 
Kirtland,  who  had  remained  with  the  Watsons,  after 
Parsons  had  moved  his  quarters,  gave  to  his  teacher 
the  accumulation  of  news  that  had  been  gathered  in 
that  household  after  Parsons  had  left  it.  Of  course 
Kirtland  attended  school  every  day,  but  Parsons  was  so 
interested  in  the  faithful  execution  of  his  closing 
school- work,  and  in  matters  pertaining  to  what  was 
soon  to  follow,  that  he  had  given  little  or  no  attention 
to  what  Alf.  Watson  and  his  coadjutors  had  been 
doing. 

When  questioned  by  Parsons  as  to  how  the  Watsons 
were  deporting  themselves  since  he  left  them,  Kirtland 
answered  him,  saying  :  "I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
their  hostility  towards  you  is  considerably  modified. 
Mr.  Eli  Watson  came  home  from  the  recent  meeting  of 
the  Board  of  Trustees  rather  incensed  against  Mr. 
Rowdon,  because  he  did  not  stand  by  him  in  a  certain 
proposition  he  had  made  about  some  settlement  with 
you,  the  particulars  of  which  I  did  not  exactly  gather. 
In  discussing  the  matter  in  the  family  circle  one  after 
noon,  having  introduced  it  after  I  had  joined  them,  it 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  435 

soon  became  evident  to  me  that  there  was  some  feeling 
upon  the  part  of  Mr.  Watson,  Sr.,  against  Mr.  Row- 
don. 

Mrs.  Watson  expressed  herself  as  being  surprised 
that  Mr.  Watson  had  been  so  unjustly  treated  by  his 
neighbor,  while  Miss  Ida — his  daughter,  ventured  to 
say  that  she  had  no  sympathy  whatever  with  her 
father,  reminding  him  of  her  prediction  concerning  his 
interesting  himself  in  the  affairs  of  Mr.  Rowdon,  and, 
by  an  unjust  course,  alienating  the  family  friendship 
from  Prof.  Parsons.  "You  will  remember,"  said  she, 
that  I  told  you  the  friendship  of  such  a  man  as  Prof. 
Parsons  should  be  much  more  highly  appreciated  by 
you  than  the  esteem  of  your  money-loving,  close- 
fisted  neighbor.  You  are  reaping  the  product  of  your 
sowing,  and  I  hope  you  see  the  error  of  such  planting. 
Let  Mr,  Rowdon's  affairs  and  those  of  his  daughter 
alone.  The  young  lady  has  a  sufficient  amount  of 
good  judgment  to  act  for  herself,  and  you  will  find 
that  prying  eyes,  nor  untruthful  statements  in  regard 
to  Prof.  Parsons,  will  deter  her  from  doing  as  she  may 
choose  in  regard  to  her  marriage."  Miss  Ida  further 
remarked,"  said  Kirtland,  "that  she  was  gratified  to  find 
that  her  brother  Alf.  had  at  last  discovered  that  the 
part  he  had  been  playing  yielded  but  little  money  and 
far  less  gratitude."  I  really  think,  Professor,  that  with 
a  little  ringing  of  the  changes  on  the  complaint  of  Mr. 
Eli  Watson,  backed  by  the  stubborn  protest  of  his 
daughter  Ida,  I  could  have  brought  as  many  of  the 
family  as  were  present,  to  the  acknowledgement  that 
you  had  been  unjustly  made  the  sufferer,  in  all  that 
had  been  done.  When  I  demanded  of  them  to  name 
the  instance  in  which  you  had  shown  yourself  to  be 


436  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

anything  other  than  a  perfect  gentleman,  the  instance 
could  not  be  named.  When  I  asked  if  your  associa 
tion  with  their  family  had  not  been  free  from  censure, 
none  of  them  said  nay.  In  fact,  while  I  was  putting 
these  interrogatories,  as  well  as  others,  Miss  Ida  was 
quick  to  speak,  and  somewhat  emphatically  said  that 
your  stay  in  the  family  had  been  marked  by  the 
highest  style  of  gentlemanly  propriety — that  even 
when  you  became  convinced,  that  to  remain  longer  in 
their  family  would  have  been  a  humiliation,  you 
politely  paid  your  bill,  and  like  the  true  gentleman 
that  you  were,  quitted  the  house  with  as  much 
urbanity  as  if  no  shadow  of  discontent  had  ever 
crossed  your  life,  because  of  unkindness  shown  you 
while  under  their  roof.  Remember  his  leave-taking, 
said  she.  His  parting  salutation  was  such  as  charac 
terized  the  man  of  heart.  Who  but  Prof.  Parsons,  she 
continued,  would  have  shown  this  gratitude,  as  he  did, 
in  his  parting  with  old  aunt  Edie.  Say  what  you  will, 
raid  she,  he  is  a  gentleman  and  ought  to  have  been 
treated  as  such." 

"  Then  you  think  trfere  is  at  least  a  partial  subsr 
dence  in  the  family's  hostility  to  me?  "  said  Parsons. 

"I  do,"  said  Kirtland.  "I  had  a  talk  with  Alf. 
Watson  a  few  evenings  ago,  and  found  he  had 
grounded  his  arms  and  retired  from  the  service  of  Mr. 
Rowdon.  The  spy  business  he  had  come  to  consider 
as  not  only  dangerous,  but  as  neither  profitable  nor 
pleasant.  So  far  as  your  stealing  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Rowdon  was  concerned  he  did  not  believe  there  was 
anything  in  it — that  the  jealousy  of  Aurelius  Munson 
had  stirred  up  a  suspicion  that  you  were  in  love  with 
Miss  Lunata,  and  her  father  did  not  fancy  you  for  a 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  437 

son-in-law.  So  far  as  Alf.  was  concerned,  he  said  that 
if  Parsons  wanted  to  steal  the  whole  Rowdon  family, 
he  could  do  so,  without  let  or  hinderance  from  him." 

"  Possibly  this  was  only  a  ruse,  Charlie,"  said  Par 
sons,  "whereby  he  sought  to  deceive  you,  and  thereby 
elicit  something  from  you  that  would  shed  some  light 
upon  how  I  now  stand  in  the  estimation  of  Miss 
Lunata." 

"I  might  have  been  suspicious  of  something  of  the 
kind  myself,"  replied  Kirtland,  "but  having  previ 
ously  heard  the  conversation  in  the  private  home- 
circle,  I  was  led  to  the  conclusion,  that  it  was  highly 
probable  that  something  which  Alf.  had  said  had 
helped  the  other  members  of  the  family  to  a  veering 
of  their  sails.  I  think  that  the  reformed  spy  was 
honest  in  that  talk,  and  you  need  apprehend  no  further 
trouble  at  his  hands." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  what  you  have, 
Charlie.  I  left  the  Watson  home  feeling  very  much 
chagrined  over  the  manner  in  which  I  was  treated  for 
some  time  before  leaving  them  ;  and  yet,  I  concealed 
my  mortification,  and  resolved,  that,  under  no  circum 
stances,  would  I  resent  any  affront  which  might  be 
offered  by  any  member  of  the  family,  Alf.  excepted. 
I  had  an  idea  that  some  affront  might  be  resorted  to  as 
a  means  to  aid  Alf.  in  his  wicked  work — that  drawing  me 
into  making  some  short  and  bitter  retort,  which  would, 
according  to  their  way  of  thinking,  make  it  incumbent 
upon  the  head  of  the  family  'to  hand  me  my  pass 
ports,'  as  indicating  that  I  must  sail  out  without  any 
further  notice.  With  such  a  course  as  this  upon  their 
part,  I  knew  it  would  soon  be  published  that  I  had 
had  a  difficulty  with  the  Watsons  and  had  been  dis- 


438  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

charged  as  a  boarder.  I  knew  that  for  such  a  result 
as  that  to  transpire  would  be  to  my  detriment,  and 
would  be  sure  to  prejudice  somebody  against  me,  I 
therefore  determined  to  bear  all  their  flouts — give  all 
their  insinuations  a  listless  ear,  and  if  possible  remain 
in  the  family  until  the  termination  of  my  school.  I 
went  back  on  this  resolve  as  you  know.  You  also 
know  that  I  could  not  have  remained  longer  than  I 
did,  without  compromising  my  manhood  and  proving 
myself  a  craven. 

"  To  hear  you  say,  therefore,  what  you  have,  Charlie, 
is  not  so  much  a  matter  of  surprise,  as  it  is  of  gratifi 
cation.  I  must  say  that  I  can  not  find  in  my  heart 
any  animosity  towards  an}7  of  the  Watsons,  Alf. 
excepted.  I  desire  to  remember  their  acts  of  special 
kindness  to  me  gratefully,  and  to  have  it  to  say ;  that, 
although  they,  through  a  mistaken  course,  prompted 
by  their  eon  Alf.  had  done  me  an  injustice,  no  one 
had  ever  heard  me  use  one  acrimonious  expression  in 
speaking  of  the  family.  As  to  the  stubborn  defense 
of  me  and  my  cause,  by  Miss  Ida,  I  am  very  proud. 
You  know  my  estimation  of  her,  and  of  the  tjlace  she 
occupies,  according  to  my  judgment  in  the  Watson 
family.  If  they  have  come  to  understand  that  I  have 
been  unjustly  persecuted  by  Rowdon,  Munson  and  Co. 
I  am  glad  to  know  it  and  am  ready  to  say,  'all  is  well 
that  ends  well.'  " 

After  Parsons  left  the  neighborhood,  suspicion  in 
regard  to  his  intention  to  steal  the  eldest  daughter  of 
Mr.  Henry  Rowdon  was  disarmed.  Those,  who  were 
wont  to  indulge  in  criticism,  argued  that  if  anything 
of  that  kind  had  been  intended,  upon  the  part  of  the 
young  Professor,  he  would  certainly  have  executed  his 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  439 

purpose  before  leaving  the  locality  in  which  the  theft 
was  to  be  perpetrated.  If  he  had  intended  to  capture 
Miss  Lunata  by  stealth,  such  an  adventure  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  be  consumated  by  retreating 
from  the  field.  The  truth  is,  there  were  a  number  of 
people  in  that  part  of  the  county  wherein  the  Rowdons 
lived,  who  had  been  looking  forward,  with  a  kind  of 
anxious  expectancy,  to  the  time  when  the  hitching  of 
the  horse  of  Aurelius  Munson  in  front  of  the  Rowdon 
residence,  would  either  cease,  or  some  disposition  be 
made  of  the  fact,  as  was  claimed,  that  he  would  ulti 
mately  win  the  hand  and  lead  to  the  altar  the  beauti 
ful  and  accomplished  Miss  Rowdon. 

In  consequence  of  Prof.  Parsons'  departure  from  the 
vicinity  in  which  he  had  been  teaching,  disappoint 
ment  assumed  the  place  of  expectation.  Gossip  in 
regard  to  the  predicted  escapade  of  Miss  Rowdon 
ceased  its  garrulity  ;  and,  for  a  time  after  Parsons  left, 
quiet  ruled  in  the  community.  It  was  discovered  that 
Munson  had  ceased  his  visits  to  the  Rowdon  home, 
and  that  the  cessation  of  his  calls  dated  back  beyond 
the  time  of  the  closing  of  Parsons'  school.  With  this 
gentleman  on  the  retreat,  and  the  fort  surrendered  by 
Munson,  the  best  guessersthat  were  called  upon  for  an 
expression  of  opinion  seemed  unable  to  give  any  solu 
tion  as  to  what  this  change  in  the  program  meant, 
unless  it  showed  that  both  admirers  of  Miss  Rowdon 
had  become  disgusted  with  the  status  of  their  affairs, 
and  had  left  the  field  to  some  new  seeker  after  an 
unclaimed  jewel.  Gossippers  and  guessers  needed  a 
new  start ;  and,  on  the  question  of  matrimonial 
ventures,  there  was  not  one  couple  in  the  community 
about  whom  any  one  had  dared  to  start  a  report. 


440  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

By  some  strange  fatuity,  it  was  only  a  short  time 
after  Munson  ceased  his  visits  to  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon, 
until  he  became  metamorphosed  from  a  disappointed 
suitor  into  a  knight  of  the  quill,  and  under  the  influ 
ence  of  a  new  monomania,  he  had  indited  several 
literary  curiosities  to  Miss  Rowdon.  The  kind  of 
hallucination  that  prompted  him  to  undertake,  by 
this  means,  and  under  the  circumstances,  to  reach  the 
heart  of  Miss  Lunata,  and  cause  her  to  relent  and  bury 
her  objections  to  him  was  a  mystery  which  would  have 
puzzled  a  most  learned  psychologist.  Munson's  com 
munication  showed  that  he  was,  beyond  doubt,  more 
of  a  pessimist  than  a  poet. 

Several  of  Mr.  Munson's  versatile  efforts  at  opening 
a  correspondence  with  |Miss  Rowdon  were  allowed  to 
remain  unanswered.  At  length  Miss  Lunata  concluded 
that  it  would  be  the  part  of  charity  to  answer  one  of 
his  letters,  and  thereby,  put  a  quietus  upon  his  per 
sistent  epistolary  effusions,  and  have  them  cease  to 
intrude  themselves  upon  her  notice.  She  therefore 
wrote  to  him. 

Considering  the  character  of  the  missives  which 
she  received  from  him,  and  which  scarcely  deserved 
the  name  of  letters,  her  reply,  while  it  was  pointed 
and  pungent  in  its  clear  exposition  of  his  igno 
rance,  his  arrogance  and  his  presumption,  her  answer 
was  no  stoop  from  the  exalted  and  dignified  bear 
ing  of  the  true  lady.  Her  withe  ring  c:iiici::n  of  his 
offensive  comments  upon  her  actions — her  satirical 
exposition  of ~ his  merciless  pursuit  of  her — his  ungen- 
tlemanly  treatment  of  her,  as  a  reward  for  her  sympa 
thy,  when  she  had  nothing  better  to  bestow,  all,  all 
went  to  show  in  their  singeing  and  caustic  effects,  the 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  441 

character  of  the  man  to  whom  she  was  writing.  She 
gave  him  to  distinctly  understand  that  the  foisting  of 
such  communications  upon  her  notice,  under  existing 
circumstances,  was  only  calculated  to  destroy  the  rem 
nant  of  esteem  which  she  had  entertained  for  him.  She 
wrote  him  frankly  that  any  complaint  he  might  make 
against  her  would  be  as  chaff  thrown  in  the  face  of  the 
wind,  and  could  but  be  dashed  backward  to  the  injury 
of  the  eyes  of  the  thrower,  provided  he  who  did  the 
throwing  was  not  too  obtuse  mentally  to  perceive  the 
effect  of  what  he  did.  But,  wrote  she;  when  it  comes 
to  maligning  the  character  of  a  gentleman,  for  no 
other  reason,  than  because  he  is  one,  and  because  I 
h?ve  a  sufficiency  of  appreciation  of  merit  to  treat 
him  as  a  gentleman  deserves  to  be  treated,  I  confess 
that  my  contempt  for  him  who  can  deal  in  such  con 
tumely,  scarcely  knows  any  bounds.  Therefore  you  will 
do  credit  to  what  candor  you  have  left  by  ceasing  your 
ignorant  display  of  dissatisfaction  over  the  fact  that  I 
tolerated  your  visits  to  gratify  my  father,  rather  than 
because  I  ever  found  anything  in  you  to  admire.  Your 
letters  are  beneath  the  character  of  a  true  gentleman, 
to  say  nothing  of  3'our  professions  of  former  friend 
ship. 

It  is  presumed  that  the  javelin  which  sped  its  way 
to  the  eyes  of  Aurelius  Munson,  upon  the  twanging  of 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon's  well-strung  bow,  had  the 
desired  effect.  It  is  presumed  that  he  was  wounded, 
and  inasmuch  as  the  wound  did  not  prove  fatal,  it  is 
also  to  be  presumed  that  the  wound  eventually  healed. 
At  any  rate,  he  de  did  not  hazard  another  challenge  to 
Miss  Rowdon,  by  sending  to  her  a  letter  of  either  com 
ment  or  criticism.  One  dose  from  her  pen  had  the 


442  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

desired  quieting  effect,  and  she  was  troubled  no  more 
by  his  supercilious  and  badl}-  spelled  correspondence. 

The  state  of  Kentucky — the  second  state  to  be 
admitted  into  the  Union  after  the  adoption  of  the 
Federal  Constitution,  was  little  more  than  a  half 
century  old  when  the  incidents  occurred  which  are 
contained  in  this  bit  of  heart  history.  With  the  cessa 
tion  of  Indian  hostilities,  through  all  her  borders,  the 
state  took-on  a  somewhat  rapid  development.  But, 
going  back  a  half  century  in  the  life  of  the  Common 
wealth,  it  is  not  strange  to  learn  that  the  country  was 
then  so  deficient  in  many  things  that  now  contribute 
to  the  ease  and  comfort  of  her  citizens. 

The  primitive  mode  of  carrying  on  commercial  rela 
tions  between  our  state  and  the  Southern  states,  by 
means  of  what  was  called  flat  boating,  had  been  super 
seded  and  largely  consigned  to  desuetude,  in  con 
sequence  of  what  Robert  Fulton  had  done  for  the 
world  by  the  application  of  steam  for  the  propelling 
of  boats,  and  making  them  the  means  of  carrying  on 
traffic,  as  well  as  rapid  traveling.  There  were  no  long 
lines  of  rail-roads,  along  whose  lengths  ponderous 
locomotives  dragged  the  wealth  01  the  new  empire  at 
its  heels.  There  were  no  whirling  passenger  coaches, 
bearing,  in  the  aggregate,  thousands  of  passengers, 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  bird's  flight,  from  one  end  of 
the  new  Republic  to  the  other.  No,  no!  The  only 
means  of  transportation  was  on  foot,  on  horse-back, 
and  in  the  old  style,  lumbering,  creaking,  rocking 
stage-coach.  Private  vehicles  for  pleasure  riding  were 
special  objects  of  admiration — a  very  great  rarity. 
This  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  The  character  of  the 
roads  made  pleasure  riding,  especialh'  in  winter, 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  443 

•an  absolute  absurdity.  In  some  localities,  the 
more  affluent  citizens  owned  carriages,  but  they  were, 
to  a  large  extent,  only  "shop-keepers"  for  carriage 
houses. 

The  repetition,  contained  in  the  foregoing  para 
graph,  has  been  made  for  a  purpose,  which  purpose, 
will  l>e  discovered  in  what  is  to  follow. 

It  must  not  l)e  inferred  from  the  foregoing  statement 
that  the  homes  of  Miss  Rowdon  and  Prof.  Parsons 
were  located  in  the  mountainous  district  of  their 
state.  Such  an  inference  would  be  incorrect.  The 
homes  of  these  two  people  were  in  a  rich  and  beauti 
ful  part  of  Kentucky — Central  Kentucky — the  Blue 
Grass  Region  of  Kentucky.  What  has  been  written 
therefore  in  regard  to  the  condition  of  their  part  of 
the  state,  a  half  century  ago,  has  been  but  partially 
outlined,  that  the  reader  of  the  story,  may  the  better 
understand  some  of  the  difficulties  that  environed  the 
two  young  people  who  are  made  the  hero  and  heroine 
of  this  story.  It  has  alreadj-  been  abundantly  shown 
that  there  was  no  alternative  for  these  people  to  escape 
from  the  obdurate  injustice  with  which  they  were  being 
treated,  except  in  flight  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  the  charac 
ter  of  the  roads  over  which  they  would  have  to  travel, 
in  making  that  flight  had  not,  as  yet,  been  considered, 
it  was  thought  that  some  attention  ought  to  be  given 
thereto.  It  was  evident  thej'were  about  to  enter  upon 
the  last  act  in  their  life  comedy,  and  if  events,  in  con 
nection  therewith,  moved  on  without  any  mishap,  they 
might  reasonably  expect  to  see  the  curtains  soon  rung 
down  upon  the  finale  of  the  play  wherein  they  had 
been  in  the  leading  roles. 


444  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

In  the  bonds  of  holy  wedlock,  John  Parsons  and 
Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  had  resolved  to  enter  as  a 
life-tenure  partnership.  If  the  fickle  goddess  Fortune, 
in  turning  her  capricious  wheel  should  pour  upon  them 
golden-misted  gifts  of  prosperity,  it  would  be  theirs 
jointly  to  enjoy.  On  the  contrary,  should  the  same 
deity  decree  that  the  cards  which  they  drew  from  her 
wheel  be  only  blanks,  they  had  fully  made  up  their 
minds  to  smile  in  her  face,  and -with  stubborn  deter 
mination  make  a  wheel  for  themselves  and  jointly  own 
it.  Parsons  was  no  Wilkins  Macawber  who  waited 
for  something  to  turn  up  ;  he  proposed  to  grasp  the 
lever  of  effort  and  turn  something  up. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  making  of  the  flight,  in 
carriages  or  wheeled  vehicles  of  any  kind,  in  the  dark 
ness  of  a  moonless  night  would  be  utterly  impossible, 
it  was  an  unavoidable  necessity  that  the  trip  should 
be  made  on  horseback.  This  being  true,  it  was  readily 
apparent  to  Prof.  Parsons  that  extreme  caution  would 
have  to  be  pr  icticed  or  Miss  Lunata  would  not  be  able 
to  endure  the  fatigue  of  such  a  journey.  That  she 
might  travel  with  as  little  exhaustion  to  herself  as 
possible,  Parsons  made  arrangements  whereby  he 
would  be  furnished  with  the  best  horseback  locomo 
tion  that  the  county  could  afford. 

Miss  Rowdon,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  been  in 
delicate  health  for  some  little  time  ;  and,  while  Par 
sons  believed  she  would  be  equal  to  the  emergency  of 
the  occasion,  he  nevertheless  thought  that  the  greatest 
possible  care  should  be  exercised  in  rendering  her  as 
comfortable  as  possible.  Parsons  had  all  the  condi 
tions  before  him,  and  thoughtfully  secured,  several 
days  before  he  was  to  make  a  final  move,  two  of  the 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  445 

best  saddle-horses  in  the  county.  He  believed  that  by 
putting  Miss  Lunata  on  one  of  these  horses  when  the 
party  started,  and  having  her  ride  that  horse  until  she 
became  weary,  she  could  be  very  much  rested  by 
having  her  saddle  changed  to  the  horse  which  Parsons 
rode,  while  he  bestrode  the  one  from  which  she  had 
dismounted.  Riding  the  second  horse  until  she  again 
became  fatigued,  another  rest  could  be  measurably 
offered  her  by  having  her  again  take  her  first  horse. 
Parsons  intended  to  start  on  one  of  the  horses,  and 
the  other,  caparisoned  with  as  soft  a  side-saddle  as 
could  be  procured,  was  to  be  led  to  the  place  where 
the  mount  was  to  take  place,  after  the  prize  had  been 
secured. 

As  the  da}rs  went  by,  Prof.  Parsons  grew  restless. 
Reader,  do  you  blame  him  ?  Was  there  anything 
wonderful  in  the  fact  that  he  became  almost 
impatiently  anxious  ?  Time  seemed  to  hang  heavily 
upon  his  hands.  Would  it  have  been  thus  with  you, 
kind  reader,  had  you  been  in  the  place  of  either  the 
one  or  "the  other  of  these  young  people?  No?  Then 
the  presumption  with  me  is  that  the  same  amount  of 
uneasy  restlessness  that  had  a  firm  hold  upon  the 
mind  of  Prof.  Parsons,  was  also  holding  sway  in  the 
thoughts  of  Miss  Rowdon. 

It  was  true  that  Parsons  was  actively  engaged  in 
making  all  the  needed  preparations  for  the  coming  of 
an  event,  that,  in  all  probability,  would  be  fraught 
with  more  important  results  to  him  than  anything 
which  had  ever  occurred  in  his  history  ;  still,  despite 
his  reasoning — despite  his  hopefulness,  there  would 
hang  about  him  an  indefinable  dread. 


446  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

Parsons  was  impatient,  he  was  restless  ;  but,  with  it 
all,  he  was  something  of  a  philosopher  too.  "It  will 
not  be  long,"  he  repeated,  "till  the  wished-for  and 
waited-for  time  comes.  This  wearing  impatience  must 
find  an  end.  This  wild  tumult  of  my  soul,  like  the 
rudderless  vessel  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves,  must,  by 
and  by,  find  a  calm.  These  swaying  emotions,  like 
the  rocking  cradle  of  the  mighty  unrest,  must  event 
ually  subside.  I  know  this  must  be  so,  and  yet  the 
invocation  half  unbiuden  mounts  to  my  lips,  as  in  an 
agony  of  suspense,  I  cry  out;  Speed  thee  !  0,  thou 
messenger  of  peace  !  Speed  the  coming  time  when 
hope  shall  change  to  glad  fruition  '  With  words  of 
consoling  prophecy  fly  to  me  with  the  message,  that, 
in  the  time  soon  coming,  present  pain  shall  end  in 
peace  !  Haste  thee  !  0  thou  harbinger  of  good,  haste 
thee !  Whisper  something  comforting  !  Bid  me 
know  that  this  consuming  solicitude  shall  end  in  a 
harvest  of  bliss,  in  the  near  by  and  by. 

Of  the  waiting  time,  days  were  eventually  reduced  to- 
hours.  With  the  opening  of  the  da} — the  eventful 
day  with  Prof.  Parsons  and  his  bethrothed,  even  before 
the  first  of  heaven's  morning  jewels,  the  dew  that 
sparkled  upon  each  trembling  spear  of  grass,  had  been 
returned  to  the  incumbent  air  whence  nature's  alembic 
had  distilled  them,  Prof.  Parsons  was  up  and  out, 
enjoying  the  invigorating  fragrance  of  the  morning 
breeze,  and  holding  communion  with  his  own  thoughts, 
and  drinking  a  sweet  draught  from  the  fountain  of 
earth's  superior  beauties.  He  felt  that  before  the 
glorious  orb  of  day  had  lit  up  the  distant  hills  in 
heralding  the  coming  of  another  day,  or  from  the 
amber  shadow  of  that  coming  sun,  another  day  should 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  447 

have  been  born,  the  first  page  in  the  second  volume  of 
his  life  would  have  been  written  ;  that  on  the  yet  unwrit 
ten  page  would  be  recorded  a  scene  all  important  to  him 
because  of  its  being  a  record  of  the  linking  of  his 
temporal  destiny  with  one  who  was  to  be  the  light 
and  comfort  of  his  future  life. 

Contemplating  the  glorious  on-coming  of  a  day  of 
superior  beauty  he  regarded  it  as  a  presage  of  some 
thing  bright  for  him  in  the  future  of  his  life.  Stand 
ing,  as  did  Parsons  on  that  morning  amid  a  scene  ever 
new  yet  ever  old,  he  broke  forth  in  a  morning  orizon  to 
Him  who  rules  in  the  armies  of  Heaven  and  among 
men,  and  asked  for  guidance  in  making  a  start  upon 
an  unblazed  journey,  and  for  help  in  his  efforts  to  be 
right  and  do  right. 

It  was  an  ideal  day,  and  Parsons  busied  himself  in 
making  such  preparations  for  his  start  as  would  find 
everything  in  readiness  for  the  departure  in  time  to 
reach  the  place  of  rendezvous  in  the  Rowdon  woods  by 
midnight.  Every  precaution  was  taken  to  make  as 
little  attractive  stir  as  possible.  Caution  was  made 
the  pass-word  among  those  who  were  to  be  Parsons' 
especial  escorts. 

By  and  by,  with  the  waning  of  the  afternoon,  the 
same  day-god  that  had  wrapped  in  effulgent  bright 
ness  the  far  away  east,  as  he  had  heralded  the  birth  of 
a  day  ;  with  chariot  wrapped  in  gilded  splendor,  now 
drove  down  the  steeps  of  the  distant  west,  while  cur 
tains  of  impurpled  glory  hung  in  fringing  beauty  above 
the  horizon.  With  the  fading  day  there  was  presented 
a  kaleidoscopic  panorama  of  grandeur  which  an 
omnipotent  hand  only  could  paint.  Prof.  Parsons 
looked  with  increasing  delight  upon  the  gorgeous 


448  WHAT  NEXT?  OK 

scene.  He  interpreted  the  silent  glory  as  presaging 
good  for  him,  in  the  venture  he  was  about  to  make. 
How  natural  that  physical  blindness,  in  its  impotency 
to  look  into  the  future,  should  lead  the  mind  to  inter 
pret  everything  in  harmony  with  the  desires  of  the 
soul.  Parsons  wanted,  and  earnestly  wanted,  every 
thing  to  be  propitious,  and  for  that  reason,  looked 
upon  the  beautiful  heavens  as  prophetic,  in  their  glory, 
of  his  success. 

Anon  the  star-crowned  queen  of  night  lifted  her 
veil,  and  with  it  covered  the  tinted  sky  and  flecked  it 
full  of  worlds.  The  superlative  grandeur  of  the  silent 
change  seemed  to  still  further  impress  Parsons  with 
the  idea  that  his  actions  were  approved  ;  for  nature,  in 
all  her  visible  domain,  seemed  to  wear  the  smile  of 
approbation.  The  sunset  scene  in  its  quiet  glory,  had 
impressed  him — the  silent  advent  of  the  queen  of 
night  had  filled  his  soul  still  fuller  of  the  idea  of  gen 
eral  outside  approval.  Parsons  could  not  refrain  from 
drawing  a  contrast  between  the  continually  changing 
scenes  that  environed  him,  while  thus  preparing  to 
make  a  visit  to  the  Rowdon  homestead,  and  the  one 
he  first  made,  to  the  neighborhood  under  the  pressure 
of  an  earnest  solicitation.  In  that  first  visit,  he  went 
as  rapidly  as  the  swift  charger  he  rode  could  carry  him, 
and  landed  in  a  style  that  well  suited  the  sudden 
entrance  of  an  advance  courier,  for  the  coming  storm. 
He  remembered  too  that  much  of  his  stay  in  that 
locality  had  been  marked  and  marred  by  trouble  and 
tumult,  and  he  interpreted  the  difference  as  presaging 
something  better  to  come  in  the  future. 

Just  as  the  hush  of  night  had  fairly  settled  upon  all 
things  terrene,  the  group  of  young  men,  who  were  to 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  449 

.accompany  Parsons  upon  his  trip,  rode  up  in  pairs,  and 
alighting  from  their  horses,  and  unsaddling  them,  were 
invited  by  Mr.  Parsons,  Sr.,  to  a  comfortable  dining- 
room,  where  all  partook  of  a  well  prepared  repast. 
After  supper  the  company  repaired  to  the  yard,  and. 
under  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  splendid  trees,  which 
made  the  darkness  more  intense,  a  somewhat  lengthy 
consultation  was  held  in  order  that  Parsons  might 
explain,  in  the  hearing  of  all  of  them,  just  what  had 
been  determined  upon,  and  exactly  how  the  program 
was  to  be  carried  through.  In  addition  to  this  expla 
nation,  there  were  many  questions  asked  and  answered 
in  regard  to  what  would  be  necessary  to  be  done,  in 
the  event  that  there  should  be  a  hitch  in  the  work 
proposed.  There  was  an  interchange  of  opinions 
among  the  members  of  the  escort  upon  every  question 
introduced,  nor  was  any  question  dismissed  till  a 
distinct  understanding  had  been  reached  in  regard  to 
it.  In  this  discussion,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  concert 
of  action  could  at  least  be  secured. 

The  clock  struck  ten.  Horses  were  speedily  saddled. 
There  was  a  hurrying  to  and  fro,  in  making  sure  that 
nothing  was  left  undone  that  should  be  done  as  prep 
aration  for  the  trip.  By  the  time  these  maneuvers  had 
been  executed,  another  half  hour  had  passed  ;  and, 
inasmuch  as  it  was  imperative  that  their  rate  of  travel 
should  be  necessarily  slow  to  the  place  selected  as  a 
temporary  rendezvous,  and  subsequent  starting  point, 
the  order  was  issued  to  mount  and  start. 

That  little  company  of  midnight  riders  went  their 
way  without  noise,  except  such  as  the  feet  of  their 
horses  made  upon  the  hard  road,  and  even  this  was  to 

WBAT  .TEXT? — 29. 


450  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

a  considerable  extent  subdued,  by  scattering  the  com 
pany  and  permitting  but  two  to  ride  together.  There 
was  no  jovialist  in  that  company  who  was  allowed  to 
say  anything  that  would  provoke  a  laugh — there  was 
no  loud  talking  to  be  indulged  in  It  was  emphatically 
a  still  hunt,  and  each  one  of  that  company  was  out 
for  the  purpose  of  capturing  important  and  valuable 
game,  and  did  not  intend  to  do  anything  that  would 
balk  their  expectations.  As  they  rode  on,  the  quietude 
of  the  night  seemed  to  lend  the  atmosphere  power 
to  throw  back  an  echo  from  even  insignificant  noises. 
The  whistle  of  the  belated  pedestrian  in  the  distance 
sounded  with  unwonted  shrillness.  The  neighing  of  a 
horse  in  a  distant  pasture — the  lowing  of  a  cow  in  the 
far  away — the  barking  of  a  watch-dog  in  a  home  remote 
from  the  road  over  which  the  party  was  traveling, 
as  though  he,  having  been  on  the  alert  had  discovered 
what  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  traveling  through  the 
country  at  that  time  of  night  meant,  and  that  he 
wanted  to  turn  tell-tale.  But  neither  honest,  belated 
way-farer,  nor  midnight  marauder  interrupted  the  tiavel 
of  those  who  were  on  a  serious  mission  bent. 

Having  traveled  nearly  the  whole  of  the  distance 
between  the  home  of  Prof.  Parsons'  parents  and  the 
home  of  Miss  Rowdon,  the  party  left  the  road  about  a 
half  mile  from  the  home  of  the  latter,  and  this  eques 
trian  body-guard  rode  into  a  large,  dense  woods  that 
belonged  to  Mr.  Henry  Rowdon.  In  about  the  center 
of  that  woods  the  party  dismounted  and  leaving  one 
man  to  guard  the  horses,  the  other  five,  led  by  John 
Parsons,  took  up  the  line  of  march  for  the  eastern  gate 
to  the  home-lawn  of  the  Rowdon  mansion. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  4-51 

Reaching  the  designated  gate,  Felix  Brunnell  cau 
tiously  lifted  the  latch,  passed  through  the  gate  into 
the  yard,  and,  because  of  the  darkness,  was  but  a  few 
feet  away,  until  he  was  out  of  the  sight  of  his  com 
rades. 

To  describe  the  state  of  feeling  that  the  four  who 
were  left  at  the  gate  experienced  while  Brunnell  was 
away,  would  be  difficult  to  do,  but  to  impart  to  words 
the  tumultuous  excitement  which  throbbed  in  the 
brain  and  heart  of  Prof.  Parsons,  would  require  a  more 
facile  and  penchant  pen  than  the  writer  of  this  story 
wields.  All  waited,  with  bated  breath,  the  result  of 
Brunnell's  adventure.  It  was  a  terrific  mental  strain, 
and  it  was  well  the  high  strung  tension  was  of  short 
duration.  In  a  few  minutes,  (not  more  than  three,  as 
Brunnell  decided,)  he  and  Miss  Lunata,  with  noiseless 
tread,  came  into  view,  and,  in  one  brief  moment  more, 
he  had  placed  the  hand  of  his  fair  charge  in  that  of  his 
friend  Parsons.  Suspense,  in  the  presence  of  victory, 
became  as  evanescent  as  a  passing  shadow.  Solicitude, 
in  the  presence  of  the  jewel  won,  was  changed  to 
exuberant  joy,  and  fear  no  longer  claimed  a  place  in 
the  soul  of  any  one  of  that  double  triad,  for  Miss 
Lunata  must  now  be  counted  among  the  rejoicing 
victors. 

Hurried,  and  yet  explicit  directions,  were  given  by 
Miss  Lunata,  as  to  where  her  valise  would  be  found, 
and,  while  one  of  the  young  men  went  to  secure  that, 
the  others,  with  the  prize  which  was  now  in  the  custody 
of  Parsons,  started  to  the  place  where  the  horses  and 
their  guard  had  been  left.  As  soon  as  they  were  out 
of  reach  of  the  Rowdon  house  by  any  ordinary  sound, 
a  proposition  was  made  and  seconded  by  the  united 


452  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

voices  of  the  other  four,  that  three  cheers  should  be 
given  in  suppressed  gladness  to  Felix  Brunnell  for  his 
triumphant  success.  Accordingly  three  smothered 
cheers  went  up  from  the  glad  hearts,  which,  if  they 
could  have  been  voiced,  unrestrained,  would  have 
been  sounded  out  in  the  darkness  of  those  woods, 
with  such  emphasis  as  to  have  startled  the  owls  in 
their  midnight  prowlings. 

Just  at  this  juncture  the  young  man  came  up  with 
the  valise,  and,  joining  the  party,  the  group  went  trip 
ping  along  through  the  darkness,  as  though  love  and 
duty  had  imparted  the  power  of  seeing  as  the  feline 
race  sees. 

Only  a  few  minutes  walk  and  the  horses  were 
reached.  After  giving  him  who  had  stood  guard,  suffi 
cient  time  to  greet  Miss  Rowdon  and  pay  her  a  com 
pliment  or  two,  Brunnell,  who  had  been  unanimously 
selected  as  the  commander  of  the  entire  outfit,  gave 
orders  to  mount  for  a  start. 

Miss  Lunata  was  assisted  to  her  saddle  with  knightly 
gallantry,  by  more  than  one  pair  of  hands.  The  young 
men  then  threw  themselves  upon  their  roadsters  and 
all  were,  at  once,  upon  the  move  from  the  woods. 
These  were  quietly  left,  nor  did  they  quicken  their 
speed  until  they  were  well  out  of  the  hearing  of  every 
thing,  and  everybody,  in  Miss  Lunata's  immediate 
neighborhood. 

Their  retreat,  after  the.  party  had  proceeded  a  few 
miles  on  the  way,  became  a  rapid,  rolling  flight  for  a 
number  of  miles,  and  the  echoes  that  came  bounding 
back  from  the  surrounding  hills,  in  mimicry  of  merry 
laughter,  and  the  rumbling  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  as 
they  beat  the  solid  road,  was  a  scene  which  fairies,  on 
gauzy  wings,  might  have  delighted  to  follow. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  453 

Fearing  that  there  might  be  a  possibility  of  Miss 
Lunata's  failure  to  provide  herself  with  a  wrap,  suffi 
cient  to  protect  her  from  the  dampness  of  the  night 
atmosphere,  Parsons  had  taken  the  precaution  to  bring 
wTith  him  a  nice,  short,  large-sleeved  garment,  made  of 
Beola  cloth,  and  consequently  quite  light.  Indeed  it 
was  almost  as  well  suited  for  a  lady's  wear  as  for  a  gentle 
man's.  This  he  requested  Miss  Lunatatc*put  on,  after  the 
company  had  proceeded  less  than  a  dozen  miles  on  their 
way.  With  a  look  indicating  thankfulness,  she  donned 
the  garment,  remarking  that  "this  prudential  piece  of 
thoughtfulness  she  would  accept  as  an  earnest  of  the 
help  she  would  ever  receive  at  his  hands,  in  aiding  her 
to  take  care  of  heiself." 

After  she  had  been  securely  enrobed  in  this  new  style 
semi-cloak,  she  and  Parsons  having  brought  their 
horses  down  to  a  pleasant  traveling  gait,  he  asked  her 
to  tell  him  how  she  managed  to  elude  suspicion,  and 
make  her  escape  from  the  house. 

To  this  Miss  Lunata  replied  that  she  had  to  practice 
a  bit  of  ingenuity  to  prevent  defeat. 

''You  are  aware,"  said  she,  "that  there  are  two 
stairways  in  our  house.  One  of  these  leads  from  the 
central  hall  to  the  chambers  above,  in  the  middle  and 
east  wing  of  the  building.  The  other  stairway  leads 
from  the  drawing-room  to  the  chambers  in  the  west 
wing  of  the  building.  My  coming  so  near  being 
defeated,  after  my  plans  had  all  been  matured, 
came  about  in  the  following  way :  This  afternoon 
some  of  my  young  lady  friends  called  to  spend  the 
night  with  me.  Of  course,  for  quite  a  while,  I  felt 
very  much  disconcerted,  and  had  begun  to  wonder  if 
the  innocent  visit  of  those  friends  was  going  to  present 


454  WHAT  NEXT?  OR     ' 

an  insurmountable  difficulty  to  my  making  my  escape. 
I  felt  very  much  alarmed  over  the  situation,  but  deter 
mined  to  put  my  wits  to  work,  to  devise  some  plan  by 
which  I  would  be  able  to  leave  the  building  and  no 
one  be  any  the  wiser  for  my  going.  After  very  much 
studying  and  planning,  I  decided  what  to  do.  A>:cord- 
ingl}',  when  the  time  came  for  retiring  for  the  night,  I 
sent  a  part  of  my  company  to  a  chamber  in  the  east 
wing,  and  anottier  part,  in  company  with  my  aunt,  I 
decided  to  appoint  to  a  chamber  in  the  west  wing. 
After  all  had  passed  to  the  rooms  assigned  them, 
except  my  aunt,  I  visited  those  who  had  been  located 
in  the  first  named  chamber,  and  seeing  that  all  in  that 
room  were  partially  disrobed  for  retiring,  I  left  tliem, 
saying,  just  as  I  quit  the  chamber,  that  I  would  sleep 
in  another  part  of  the  house.  Going  below  stairs,  I 
met  my  aunt,  who  was  still  in  the  drawing  room.  I 
remarked  to  her,  that  she  could  retire  to  the  room 
above  us,  as  what  sleeping  I  did,  would  be  done  in 
another  part  of  the  building.  As  my  aunt  started  up 
the  stairway,  I  called  to  her,  and  asked  if  she  had 
securely  locked  the  rear  door  to  the  room.  She 
answered  that  she  thought  she  had,  but  that  I  could 
look  and  satisfy  myself ;  at  the  same  time  continuing 
her  way  up  the  stairs.  I  immediately  went  to  the 
door  referred  to,  and  under  the  pretense  of  making 
security  doubly  secure,  I  unlocked  the  door  and  set  it 
barely  ajar.  I  then  extinguished  the  light,  sat  down 
close  to  the  door,  and  became  a  patient  watcher  for 
the  footfall  of  our  friend  Felix  Brunnell." 

You  will  discover  that  I  practiced  a  deception 
upon  my  visitors.  I  told  those  who  were  to  sleep  in 
one  room  of  the  house  that  I  would  spend  the  night 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  455 

in  another.  That  I  practiced  a  deception  upon  my 
aunt,  is  apparent,  from  my  telling  her  that  I  would 
sleep  with  my  friends  in  the  east  wing  of  the  building. 
By  these  deceptions,  I  avoided  the  necessity  of  leaving 
the  lower  floor,  and  remained  in  the  drawing-room.  I 
deceived  my  aunt  in  my  pretext  to  be  making  the 
door  secure  against  in-comers,  when,  in  truth,  I  was 
arranging  it  for  the  sclent  exit  of  a  very  anxious  out- 
goer.  I  practiced  these  deceptions,  Prof.  Parsons,  but 
I  can  not  find  that  my  conscience  has,  in  any  way, 
manifested  a  disapproval  of  my  acts.  If  ever  the  end 
justified  the  means,  I  think  it  surely  did  in  my  case." 

"My  dearest  Lunata,  where  an  embodiment  of 
virtue,  beauty  and  affection  combined,  is  struggling  to 
bring  an  offering  to  place  upon  an  altar  which  devotion 
has  built ;  methinks  the  All-wise  will  pardon  the 
priestess  and  sanctify  her  sincerity.  By  and  by,  I  hope 
I  will  have  a  cozy  nest,  that  will  furnish  us  joy  and 
comfort,  and  in  which  we  can  make  a  common  offer 
ing,  upon  a  common  home  altar,  and  that  Heaven  will 
guard  the  sacredness  of  our  sacrifice." 

When  about  half  of  the  night  had  passed,  that 
remained  after  the  partjr  had  left  the  solemn  stillness 
of  the  Rowdon  woods,  it  became  evident  that  Miss 
Lunata  was  growing  weary.  A  halt  was  therefore 
ordered,  and  the  young  lady  was  assisted  to  dismount. 
As  soon  as  the  necessary  change  in  the  trappings  of 
the  horses  could  be  made,  a  swapping  of  seats  between 
the  riders  was  effected.  Miss'  Lunata  seemed  pleased 
writh  the  change.  She  straightened  herself  up  and 
remarked,  she  was  goodforthe  remainder  of  the  night's 
ride.  After  traveling  for  some  distance,  it  was  readily 
perceived  that  the  change  'of  horses  had  been  of  con- 


456  WHAT  NEXT?    OB 

siderable  advantage  to  the  young  lady.  She  claimed 
that  the  gaits  of  the  two  horses,  while  both  were  excel 
lent,  were  different,  and  therefore  restful  for  her. 

About  day-break  the  part}'  came  in  sight  of  a  village, 
a  dozen  miles  or  more  from  the  city  of  Maj'S- 
ville,  Ky.,  and  about  the  time  they  reached  its  limits, 
the  amber  tinted  light  of  the  god  of  day  was  diffusing 
itself  about  the  tops  of  the  adjacent  hills,  and,  anon, 
the  earth  was  filled  with  corruscations  of  flashing  glory. 
It  soon  grew  sufficiently  light  for  the  members  of  the 
party  to  distinctly  see  each  other.  The  spirit  of  crit 
icism  was  soon  on  tip  toe.  Hearty  laughter  was 
indulged  in  over  the  general  appearance  of  all  ;  for, 
although  it  had  not  rained,  the  thick  fog  through  which 
they  had  made  their  way  for  the  last  few  hours  of 
their  travel,  had  taken,  to  a  large  extent,  the  starch  out 
of  their  bodies  as  well  as  out  of  their  clothing.  It  now 
became  manifest  that  Prof.  Parsons  had  made  a  very 
fine  display  of  his  foresight,  for  the  outer  covering  with 
which  he  had  protected  Miss  Rowdon  from  the  damp 
ness  of  the  night  dew  was  wet,  yea,  dripping. 

Having  reached  a  hotel  in  the  village,  the  party 
dismounted — the  horses  were  sent  to  a  livery — all  took 
breakfast — rested  up  a  bit,  after  eating,  and  during  the 
rest,  Parsons  was  wondering — not  What  Next  ?  but 
whether  a  reconcilement  could  be  worked  out  of  an 
apparent  paradox  ;  for  he  claimed,  that,  after  all,  he 
was 

Ax  HONEST  THIEF. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms, 

Which  I   gaze  on  so  fondly  today, 

Were  to  change  by  tomorrow  and  melt  in  my  arms, 

Like  fairy -gifts,  fading  away — 

Thou  would'st  still  be  ador'd  as  this  moment  thou  art." 

— Moore. 


r/ xiiK  road  from  the  village,  where  the  party  took 
breakfast,  to  MaysvUle,  was  very  much  better 
than  that  over  which  they  had  made  their  night 
ride.  Conveyances  were  therefore  chartered  for 
the  remainder  of  the  distance,  and,  after  a  short  morning 
siesta,  the  vehicles  being  in  readiness,  an  order  was 
heard,  emanating  from  Capt.  Brunnell,  to  prepare  for 
a  start.  The  cr}7  rang  out — All  aboard  !  It  was  hur 
riedly  obeyed,  and  soon  the  whirling  wheels  and 
rattling  hoof-beats,  upon  the  road,  indicated  a  some 
what  speedy  travel  towards  the  city,  which  they  were 
seeking.  In  about  two  hours  from  the  time  when  they  left 
the  village,  their  vehicles  called  a  halt  in  front  of  the 
Godard  House  of  Maysyille.  The  company  alighted 
from  their  conveyances,  only  to  take  passage  immedi 
ately  upon  a  ferry-boat,  to  cross  over  the  Ohio  river  to 
Aberdeen. 

Quite  a  nice  and  pleasant  company  of  people  from 
the  hotel,  with  a  nephew  of  the  land-lady  as  leader, 
crossed  the  river  with  the  refugees.  These  accompanying 
attendants  contributed  very  much  to  the  brightness, 
gaiety  and  hilarity  of  the  wedding  party.  They  seemed 
to  have  become,  after  hearing  the  cause  of  the  elope 
ment,  very  much  interested  in  the  young  people,  and 
heartily  manifested  their  approbation. 


458  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

Aberdeen — the  comparatively  insignificant  village  in 
which  so  many  matrimonial  vows  have  been  registered 
— in  which  so  many  cases  of  defiant  insubordination 
to  parental  authority  has  culminated  in  marriages,  was 
at  length  reached.  A  search  was  immediately  insti 
tuted  for  one  of  the  most  distinguished  "squires" 
that  ever  said  a  marriage  ceremony,  or  signed  a  certifi 
cate  that  testified  that  two  parties  had  been  united  by 
him  in  wedlock ;  whether  in  holy  wedlock  or  not 
remains,  in  the  minds  of  many,  a  mooted  question. 

It  took  quite  a  search  to  find  the  "Squire."  He  was 
eventually  discovered  in  a  wood-shed,  in  the  rear  of 
his  home,  grinding  an  ax,  and  was  tninus  both  coat 
and  vest.  A  report  of  his  being  found  was  immedi 
ately  carried  to  Parsons,  and  he,  in  turn,  repaired  to 
the  wood-shed,  while  the  waiting  assembly,  who  were 
to  be  witnesses  of  the  ceremony,  held  the  fort,  or 
rather  the  Squire's  rear  porch,  awaiting  his  return. 
Parsons  soon  settled  the  amount  of  the  fee  to  be  paid 
for  the  services  which  were  to  be  rendered,  and  the 
parson  and  Parsons  then  came  to  the  company  in 
waiting  upon  the  porch.  Without  making  any  addition 
whatever  to  his  scanty  wardrobe,  the  Squire  requested 
the  two,  who  had  made  the  demand  upon  his  services, 
to  step  to  the  front  of  those  who  were  witnesses.  This 
order  was  obej'ed.  He  then  requested  that  the  two 
join  their  right  hands.  This  request  was  likewise  com 
plied  with.  The  august  priest  of  Hymen's  altar  then 
recited  a  short  ritual,  and  John  Parsons  and  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  were  declared  to  be  husband  and 
wife. 

The  usual  formalities  of  congratulating  the  bride 
were  really  informalities'on  this  occasion.  There  was  so 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  459 

much  genuine,  earnest, whole-souled  delight  expressed  by 
those  who  had  accompanied  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss 
Rowdon  on  their  perilous  adventure,  that  their  exuber 
ance  of  joy  seemed  almost  a  frenzy.  The  exhibited 
delight  of  these  attendants  became  contagious.  The 
ladies  and  gentlemen  who  had  only  crossed  the  river,  to 
be  spectators  of  the  marriage  ceremony,  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  gladsome  jubilation,  with  real  zest.  Congratula 
tory  speeches]  were  made  by  them  as  though  the  parties 
who  had  just  assumed  the  matrimonial  yoke,  were  old 
friends,  in  whose  welfare  they  felt  an  abiding  interest. 

The  first  boat  that  landed  at  the  wharf  of  the  little 
Gretna  Green,  after  the  wedding  ceremony  had  been 
pronounced  and  congratulations  offered,  was  boarded 
by  the  newly  wedded  pair,  their  chivalric  body-guard, 
and  the  very  delightful  people  who  had  gone  with  them 
from  the  Godard  House. 

As  they  returned,  the  hotel  was  reached  just  in  time 
to  be  ushered  into  a  spacious  dining-room,  where  the 
party  partook  of  a  repast  such  as  made  the  Godard 
House,  in  the  days  of  long  ago,  one  of  the  most  popu 
lar  houses  to  be  found  anywhere  in  the  South. 

The  time  when  this  transitory  stop  was  made  at  that 
noted  hostelry,  antedates  the  period  when  guests  were 
seated  at  a  hotel  table  in  this  country,  on  which  there 
was  nothing  but  dishes  and  a  bill  of  fare. 

When  Prof.  Parsons  and  his  handsome  young 
wife,  accompanied  by  their  five  knightlj"  attendants 
walked  into  the  dining-oom,  they  were  confronted  by  a 
table  that  bespoke  in  eloquence,  as  well  as  elegance, 
the  sumptuous  style  in  which  the  widowed  proprietor 
of  that  house  was  wont  to  cater  to  the  gastronomic 
taste  of  those  who  patronized  her  table.  Every  luxury 


460  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

of  which  our  widely  extended  country  could  boast  was 
piled  in  bounteous  profusion,  upon  a  pair  of  tables,  each 
of  which  reached  almost  the  entire  length  of  the 
dining-hall.  The  very  arrangement  and  general 
appearance  of  everything  upon  which  the  eyes  of  Par 
sons'  partjr  fell,  as  they  entered  the  hall,  wore  an  air 
of  neatness.  The  garlanded  bouquets,  that  orna 
mented  the  tables,  spread  their  fragrance  upon  all  the 
surroundings.  The  general  display  of  the  viands 
with  which  the  tables  were  profusely  loaded,  indicated 
that  the  hunger  of  all  might  be  satisfied,  and  if  need 
be,  a  number  of  baskets  full  of  the  fragments  be 
gathered  after  all  had  been  supplied. 

The  nephew  of  the  landlady,  of  whom  mention  has 
been  made  as  among  those  who  went  over  the  river  to 
witness  the  wedding,  seemed  to  have  become  interested 
in  the  two  young  people  who  had  sought  safety  in 
flight.  Just  as  soon  as  they  alighted  from  their  car 
riage  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  he  had  ascertained  the 
purpose  of  their  visit,  he  subjected  young  Parsons' 
in  a  gallant  and  polite  way,  to  a  kind  of  catechism, 
which  indicated  considerable  curiosity.  'Having 
learned  where  they  were  from — why  they  were  under 
the  necessity  of  leaving  home  to  wed,  &c.,  he  at  once 
made  their  cause  one  of  such  interest  to  him  as  induced 
him  to  show  the  party  especial  attention.  The  3roung 
man  was  a  handsome  fellow  and  appeared  to  be  about 
the  age  of  Prof.  Parsons.  He  seemed  to  be  an 
important  factor  in  the  running  of  the  Godard  House, 
and  was  therefore  very  much  interested  in  the  welfare 
of  the  party  whose  marriage  he  had  witnessed.  This 
may  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  preparation  of 
a  rather  superior  dinner  upon  Prof.  Parsons'  wedding 
day. 


TEiE  HONEST  THIEF  461 

From  the  number  of  people  who  were  already  seated 
at  the  dining  table  when  the  newly  wedded  couple  and 
their  attendants  entered,  it  was  readily  seen  that  the 
house  was  popular  and  doing  a  thriving  business. 

As  Parsons  and  his  wife  passed  into  the  room,  all 
eyes  were,  of  course,  turned  upon  them  ;  and,  from  the 
suppressed  murmur  of  voices  about  the  table,  it  was 
evident  that  a  spirit  of  criticism  was  rife  in  the 
room.  Whether  there  was  a  concensus  of  opinion  in 
regard  to  any  one  thing  pertaining  to  either  the  bride 
or  groom,  there  was  certainly  no  means  of  knowing. 
Nothing  was  said,  except  in  a  suppressed  tone  of 
voice,  which  was  too  indistinct  to  reach  the  ears  of 
any  of  Parsons'  party. 

The  dinner  was  most  excellent  in  quality  as  well  as 
quantity,  and  was  enjoyed  by  the  runaways.  Sub 
siding  excitement  at  the  end  of  a  long,  weary  jaunt 
had  whetted  their  appetites  and  they  ate  with  a  relish. 

After  dinner  had  been  finished,  and  the  dining-hall 
had  been  vacated,  a  number  of  ladies  called  at  the 
room  of  the  bride  and  received  an  introduction  to  her. 
For  quite  a  time,  she  was  entertained  by  them,  while 
they,  in  turn,  attracted  by  her  sprightly  and  vivacious 
conversational  power,  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  a  talk 
with  her.  It  was,  however,  quite  apparent  that  each 
one,  thus  calling,  was  full  of  curiosity  to  know  some 
thing  in  regard  to  the  history  of  so  romantic  a  court 
ship,  as  they  supposed  that  of  the  bride  must  have 
been.  Each  one  wanted  to  hear  why  the  necessity  had 
occurred  which  made  a  trip  to  Aberdeen  imperative. 

The  bride  was  shrewd  enough  to  readily  perceive, 
that  even  if  she  gave  to  these  inquisitive  ladies,  a  bare 
epitome  of  a  courtship  which  had  culminated  in  that  to 


462  WHAT    NEXT?    OB 

which  they  had  been  witnesses,  her  story  would  occupy- 
very  much  more  time  than  she  had  to  spare.  She 
therefore  quieted  them,  to  some  extent,  by  telling  them 
that  she  left  at  home  a  father  who  wanted  her  to 
make  a  sacrifice  of  her  affections,  by  selecting  a  hus 
band  for  her,  for  whom  she  could  scarcehy  have  respect, 
much  less  love. 

Speaking  directly  to  one  of  her  callers,  but  in  the 
presence  and  hearing  of  all,  Mrs.  Parsons  said  :  "You 
saw  the  gentleman  I  married.  I  know  due  allowance 
must  be  made  for  my  overweening  opinion  of  his  ex 
cellent  qualities.  Make,  therefore,  such  deductions  from 
my  expressions  of  praise  in  speaking  of  Prof.  Parsons 
as  you  please,  and  I  am  sure  that  after  your  subtrac 
tion,  there  will  be  enough  of  real  genuine  merit  left, 
to  leave  you  convinced  that  I  have  made  no  big 
blunder. 

"The  spirit  of  adventure  constitutes  no  part  of  the 
step  I  have  taken.  Calm  deliberation  and  earnest 
study  of  the  question,  which  my  act  of  an  hour  ago 
has  answered,  was  given  to  the  subject,  and  the 
dangers  incident  to  such  a  course  as  I  have  pursued.  I 
appreciated  the  superior  worth  of  the  man  I  have 
married — I  admired  his  qualities,  and  deliberately  made 
up  my  mind  that  I  was  a  better  judge  of  mental 
endowment  and  moral  excellence  than  was  my  father. 
I  have  Prof.  Parsons  history  from  his  childhood..  There 
is  no  spot  upon  the  escutcheon  of  that  history.  If 
there  is,  my  investigation  has  failed  to  discover  it.  He 
is  sober,  educated  honorable,  honest  and  industrious. 
He  sprang  from  a  good  family.  He  is  a  gentleman  to 
the  manner  born.  I  would  hardly  have  been  satisfied, 
with  less  than  these  as  characteristics  of  the  true  genie- 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  463 

man  ;  it  would  have  been  unjust  had  I  demanded 
more.  He  laid  bare  for  my  acceptance  the  sublime 
emotions  of  his  manly  heart — he  sued  for  my  hand — I 
knew  he  loved  me,  and  more,  I  knew  I  loved  him." 

"  Cruelty  barred  me,  not  only  from  giving  him  my 
hand,  and  having  it  accompanied  with  a  paternal 
blessing,  but  even  denied  me  the  privilege  of  meeting 
him.  To  this  interdict  I  dissented,  and  met  him 
nevertheless.  Of  the  result  of  our  clandestine  meet 
ings  and  our  surreptitious  correspondence  you  have  but 
just  now  been  witnesses.  This  is  the  gist  of  the  whole 
story.  Were  I  to  enter  into  all  the  details,  the  time 
of  my  stay  in  Maysville  would  not  be  sufficient  to  lay 
before  you  a  tithe  thereof,  and  you  will  have  to  excuse 
me  with  the  epitome  I  have  given  you." 

"From  your  appearance,  as  well  as  from  the  appear 
ance  of  your  husband,"  said  one  of  the  ladies,  "I 
think  you  are  not  only  matched  but  mated — not  only 
married  but  have  formed  a  sacred  union  upon  which 
Heaven  will  smile  and  good  people  approve.  I 
must  tell  you,  that  I  not  only  commend  your  pluck, 
but  admire  your  taste.  As  you  have  remarked,  we 
might  be  right  in  making  some  allowance  for  your 
enthusiasm  over  your  success,  and  for  your  pride  in 
securing  the  man  of  your  choice,  but  I  can  see  no 
reason  whatever,  why  any  discount  should  be  made 
upon  the  man  whom  you  can  now  call  your  own.  I 
confess  I  have  had  awakened  in  my  mind  a  lively 
interest  in  your  welfare.  I  think  the  All- wise  Father 
must  smile  in  benignant  kindness,  and  lend  prosperity 
to  two  young  people  who  have  had  the  philosophic 
prudence  to  start  out  upon  the  matrimonial  pilgrimage 
of  life,  only  after  the  responsibilities,  the  obligations, 


464  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

and  the  duties  of  such  a  life  have  been  discussed  in 
all  their  phases.  I  have  said  that  I  admired  your 
pluck,  and  I  said  this  because  I  think  the  fact  is 
patent,  that  the  mistake  in  this  matter  is  your  father's 
and  not  yours." 

"  I  am  no  physiognomist,"  continued  the  lady,  "  but 
I  think  I  can  read  enough  in  the  facial  expressions  of 
each  of  you,  to  satisfy  me  that  your  elopement  was  no 
hap-hazard,  immature  venture  upon  the  part  of  either 
of  you.  I  am  no  prophetess,  but  I  think  I  can  dis 
cover  enough  of  the  marks  of  decision  of  character,  in 
the  strong  and  handsome  face  of  your  j'oung  husband, 
to  justify  the  prediction  that  nothing  but  accident  or 
misfortune  will  prevent  his  success  in  life.  To  you, 
Mrs.  Parsons,  I  have  no  advice  to  offer,  even  if  I  were 
asked  for  it.  You  may  possibly  have  been  raised  in 
affluence.  Your  general  appearance  would  betoken  as 
much  ;  and  such  would  be  my  guess,  if  I  were  asked 
to  do  so  ;  and  yet,  I  am  sure  you  have  so  studied  the 
relations  which  will  be  new  to  you,  as  to  be  fully  pre 
pared  to  discharge  the  wifely  obligations  upon  which 
you  now  enter.  The  ready  intuitions  of  a  good 
woman  are  of  incalculable  help,  even  to  a  strong- 
minded  man,  and  with  your  sympathy  and  counsel 
you  may  aid  Prof.  Parsons  in  rising  superior  to  many 
troubles." 

"I  am  glad  indeed  that  I  met  you,"  continued  the 
lady.  "There  was  something  in  your  appearance, 
upon  my  first  seeing  you,  that  not  only  appealed  to 
my  curiosity,  but  awakened  within  me  an  interest  in 
you.  What  it  was,  I  am  unable  to  say ;  but  so  it  was; 
and,  even  when  you  shall  have  passed  out  of  my  sight, 
memory  will  hold  your  picture,  and,  let  your  lot  be 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  465 

cast  where  it  may,  I  shall  have  an  interest  in  you  and 
follow  you  with  my  good  wishes." 

"  My  dear,  kind  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Lunata  Parsons, 
"I  mo.t  sincerely  thank  you  for  your  interest  in  me, 
newly  born  though  it  be.  With  equal  gratitude  I 
would  express  my  appreciation  of  your  sympathy  for 
me.  Your  maturity  in  years  gives  potency  to  all  you 
have  said,  and  I  am  certainly  gratified  to  find  an  earn 
est  well  wisher,  upon  the  very  threshhold  of  my  mar 
ried  life.  I  am  the  more  grateful  to  you  for  your 
encouraging  words,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  maternal 
counsel  is  something  I  have  never  known  since  I  was 
old  enough  to  appreciate  the  real  worth  of  a  mother's 
love.  I  lost  my  mother  while  I  was  yet  a  child  in 
years,  and  have  been  left,  to  a  large  extent,  since  her 
demise,  to  my  own  instincts,  in  making  my  way 
through  the  difficult  mazes  of  my  youthful  life.  I  have 
now  entered  upon  a  new  field  of  duties.  With  what 
success,  my  efforts  to  discharge  these  duties,  and  to  meet 
the  obligations  of  my  changed  canditions  are  to  be  crown 
ed,  is,  of  course  yet  to  be  developed.  If  however  my  suc 
cess  is  to  be  commensurate  with  my  ambition,  I  cannot 
believe  I  shall  fail.  If  my  achievements  are  to  be 
equal  to  my  determination,  I  think  I  must  succeed. 
That  I  should  start  out  upon  my  matrimonial  journey 
with  such  comforting  Avords  of  commendation  for  the 
course  I  have  pursued,  and  cheering  good-wishes  from 
you,  as  well  as  from  the  other  ladies  who  have  favored 
me  with  this  visit,  I  interpret  as  ominous  of  anything 
but  evil. 

"Ladies,"  continued  Mrs.  Parsons;  ''it  has  been  a 
matter  of  extreme  gratification  to  me  that  no  one  of 

WHAT  NEXT? — 30. 


496  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

you  has  even  intimated  an  adverse  criticism  because  of 
my  leaving  home  under  the  circumstances.  On  the 
contrary,  you  have  been  outspoken  in  j'our  expressions 
of  a  belief  that  I  did  right.  I  may  never  see  any  of 
you  again,  and  you  will  please  allow  me  once  more  to 
thank  you  for  having  placed  a  flower  of  rare  fragrance 
in  memory's  casket.  '  The  words  of  encouragement 
which  you  have  spoken — the  manifestation  of  your 
sympathy  for  me,  is  a  charity  so  rich  and  oppor 
tune,  that  it  makes  me  doubly  glad  that  I  met  you.  Of 
course  the  scenes  through  which  I  have  passed  today 
can  never,  during  my  life,  fade  from  my  remembrance, 
and  as  oft  as  they  are  recalled,  just  so  often  will  your 
faces  and  your  pleasant  attentions  constitute  a  part  of 
the  picture." 

The  ladies  seemed  to  regard  this  part  of  Mrs. 
Parsons'  .remarks  as  a  kind  of  perioration,  or  finale  to 
what  she  had  to  say,  and  they  therefore,  after  having 
given  an  affectionate  farewell  to  the  new  bride,  left  her 
to  the  quiet  and  restfulness  of  her  room. 

As  has  been  before  stated,  Miss  Lunata  Rowdon  had 
not  been  well  for  some  weeks  previous  to  her  under 
taking  the  long  and  fatigueing  horseback  ride  that 
she  made  in  going  to  the  village  which  was  reached 
just  after  daylight  on  that  morning.  It  is  not,  for  that 
reason,  a  matter  of  surprise  that  she  should  have 
seemed  worn  by  the  trip  ;  even  so  much  so,  that  despite 
her  effort  to  be  herself,  she  could  not  help  wealing  a 
jaded  or  tired  expression.  As  soon  therefore  as  the 
lady  visitors  had  left  the  room,  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  bed,  determined  to  try  the  effect  of  a  quiet  Spanish 
siesta.  She  soon  fell  into  a  peaceful  and  dreamless 
sleep. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  467 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Capt.  Brunnell 
had  the  carriages  ordered  to  the  front  of  the  hotel,' and 
preparations  having  been  made  for  the  start  on  the 
return  trip,  Parsons  went  to  his  bride's  room  to  notify 
her  that  preparations  were  being  made  for  the  start 
homeward.  Upon  entering  the  room  he  found  her 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  undisturbed  peace.  Parsons 
stood  before  that  living  picture  and  gazed  thereon  in 
rapturous  delight.  Her  rich  raven  curls  had  fallen  in 
neglige  over  her  fair  brow,  and  presented  a  striking 
contrast  between  the  alabaster  whiteness  of  the  one 
and  the  ebon  blackness  of  the  other.  In  mute  admi 
ration,  he  stood  over  the  young  bride,  and  indulged  in 
a  mental  soliloquy.  ''  I  have  won  the  prize.  It  is 
now  marked  in  my  name.  No  one  can  now  dispute 
my  claim.  No  jealous  rival  need  now  bid  for  what  I 
have  captured.  The  game  is  ended.  The  premium 
has  been  awarded.  It  is  mine.  No  interdict  save  that 
of  death  can  now  rob  me  of  the  jewel  which  is  to 
adorn  my  crest.  No,  No  !  It  is  all  mine  !  My  very 
heart-beats  are  in  unison  with  hers.  May  the  male 
dictions  of  Heaven  be  visited  upon  my  unworthy  head, 
should  1  ever  cease  to  admire  and  love  this  dear  girl. 
May  my  memory  grow  to  be  a  blank  should  I  ever  for 
get  the  sacrifices  she  has  made,  in  giving  herself  to 
me." 

With  the  closing  up  of  these  revolving  thoughts, 
Prof.  Parsons  gently  leaned  over  the  fair  sleeper,  and, 
with  his  own  lips,  touched  hers.  She  opened  her  eyes 
and  smilingly  greeted  her  new  spouse  after  the  first 
nap  of  married  life. 

The  groom  then  informed  his  bride  that  the  con 
veyances  were  in  waiting  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  that 


468  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

their  company  had  protested  against  starting  on  the 
homeward  run  without  having  her  on  board.  After  a 
hastily  arranged  toilet,  Mrs.  Lunata  Parsons  signified 
her  readiness  for  the  journey. 

The  bride  and  groom  passed  down  the  stairway  and 
out  to  the  street,  where  the  carriages  stood.  Anticipat 
ing  the  departure,  the  guests  and  regular  dwellers  in 
the  hotel  had  assembled  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the 
hotel  door ;  and,  as  the  bride  made  her  appearance, 
there  was  exhibited  upon  the  part  of  all  present,  a 
desire  to  see  her,  and  greet  her,  as  well  as  to  shout  a 
vive  vale  to  her  as  she  entered  her  carriage. 

Amid  the  chatter  of  many  voices,  in  each  of  which 
there  was  an  expression  equivalent  to  "Long  live  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Parsons,"  the  retinue  moved  off,  and  as  long 
as  it  was  in  sight  of  the  hotel,  the  company  in  front  of 
the  door  waved  their  handkerchiefs  as  a  parting  good 
bye,  and  as  indicating  the  interest  they  all  felt  in  the 
welfare  of  the  two  people  who  had  started  on  the 
pilgrimage  of  married  life — two  people  who  had  so 
favorably  impressed  every  one  with  whom  they  were 
brought  into  immediate  contact  —  two  people  who, 
although  they  were  bound  to  each  other  by  the  ties  of 
love's  firmest  chain,  had  nevertheless  souls  full  of  ad 
miration  for  the  beautiful,  the  true  and  the  good. 

The  journey  back  to  the  village,  where  the  horses  had 
been  left  in  the  morning,  was  neither  marked  by  any 
thing  of  special  interest,  nor  noted  for  any  particular 
enjoyment.  There  was,  shortly  after  the  company 
started,  some  demonstration  of  joy  over  the  fact  that 
theirs  was  the  triumphant  return  of  those  who  had 
been  out  upon  a  momentous  mission,  and  were  some 
what  elated  over  their  victory. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  469 

The  all  night  ride  which  the  party  had  made  was 
well  calculated  to  dampen  the  jubilant  spirits  with 
which  each  of  them  had  left  the  Rowdon  plantation, 
and  the  fatigue  of  that  ride  was  beginning  to  tell  on  each 
of  them.  This  feeling  of  lassitude  became  more  and 
more  perceptible  as  the  excitement  subsided,  which 
was  incident  to  the  accompanying  of  a  runaway  couple 
to  Aberdeen. 

After  they  had  traveled  some  distance  from  Mays- 
ville,  towards  the  village  in  which  they  had  halted  for 
breakfast  in  the  morning,  there  was  but  little  of  that 
exuberant  gladness  which  had  been  so  noticeable  on 
the  previous  night.  Their  garrulity  having  subsided, 
each  of  them  seemed  to  have  drawn  his  studying  cap 
well  down  over  his  brow,  and  to  have  shrunk  into 
a  state  of  semi-somnolence. 

The  thumping  of  the  iron-clad  hoofs  of  the  horses 
upon  the  hard  road — the  rattle  of  the  carriage  wheels, 
in  their  whirring  rounds,  and  the  occasional  sharp 
crack  of  the  jehu  who  was  urging  his  liven7  steeds  to 
greater  speed,  was  not  a  lullaby,  by  which  Somnus 
could  be  attracted.  The  result  was  that  none  of 
the  gentlemen  slept,  the}"  only  dozed. 

The  case  was  different  with  Mrs.  Parsons.  The 
excitement  of  the  previous  night,  and  of  that  morning, 
had  kept  her  nervous  S3*stem  so  highly  strung  up, 
that  the  strain  which  she  underwent,  in  her  physical 
condition  was  something  terrible  ;  and  yet,  but  for  the 
continual  excitement  to  which  she  was  subjected,  it 
is  questionable  whether  she  would  have  been  able  to 
have  made  the  trip. 

With  the  subsidence  of  the  excitement,  which  ran  to 
a  fever  heat  while  flying  from  home,  Prof.  Parsons  saw 


470  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

that  there  came  upon  his  bride  a  look  of  appealing 
weariness.  This,  of  course,  become  a  source  of  trouble 
to  him,  and  he  at  once  decided  upon  a  plan  by  which 
she  might  be  rested.  He,  therefore,  so  arranged  his 
position  in  the  carriage  as  that  she  could,  by  reclining, 
rest  her  head  in  his  lap.  In  this  position,  with  a  soft 
shawl  converted  into  a  pillow,  she  rode  the  balance  of 
the  way  to  the  village  to  which  the  party  was  going. 
Upon  reaching  there,  she  expressed  herself  as  consider 
ably  refreshed  by  the  sleep  she  had  secured,  and 
declared  her  rest  and  sleep  had  been  as  sweet  and 
undisturbed  as  if  she  had  been  reclining  upon  the 
softest  couch. 

Poor  travel-worn  young  wife  !  In  her  delicate  state 
of  health  it.  was  almost  wonderful  that  she  stood  as 
well  as  she  did  the  wear  of  so  trying  a  jaunt.  It  is 
not  at  all  wonderful,  however,  that  she  could  get  an 
invigorating  sleep  in  the  arms  of  him  whom  she  con 
sidered  her  shield  and  comfort.  Poor,  weary,  but 
resolute  young  wife  !  She  was  tired,  but  the  tranquil 
lizing  effect  of  her  triumph  over,  her  fears,  and  her 
victory  over  her  doubts  invited  rest  and  sleep.  Physical 
conditions  considered,  in  connection  with  her  weariness, 
she  would  have  wooed  both  rest  and  sleep  under  almost 
any  kind  of  surroundings,  but  to  nestle  down  in  the 
arms  of  him  whose  wooing  had  been  a  source  of 
infinite  delight  was  the  nearest  road  to  where  she  could 
get  a  supernal  sip  from  the  waters  of  Lethe  and  forget 
that  she  was  weary. 

The  party  who  entered  Maysville  in  somewhat  hot 
haste  in  the  morning,  had,  after  their  return  from 
Aberdeen,  grown  a  little  dilatory;  and,  consequently, 
not  being  so  exact  in  keeping  everything  up  to  the 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  471 

minute  as  to  time,  did  not  get  started  from  the  Godard 
House  until  quite  a  while  after  the  hour  had  passed 
which  had  been  set  for  its  departure.  The  result  of 
that  dilatoriness,  coupled  with  the  tardy  traveling  of 
the  teams,  made  their  arrival  in  the  village  where  they 
would  spend  the  night,  only  a  little  in  advance  of  the 
out-coming  of  the  stars.  Their  conveyances  were 
driven  to  the  front  of  the  village  hotel,  in  which  they 
had  taken  their  breakfast  and  had  had  a  few  minutes 
rest. 

The  place  wras  uninviting.  There  was  an  exhibit 
of  untidiness  everywhere  about  the  establishment. 
Several  poorly  clad  loafers  were  hanging  about  the 
office  to  which  was  attached  a  bar-room.  The  wraiters 
about  the  place  looked  frowzy  and  unkempt.  The  lights 
were  poor  sputtering  things — regular  tallow  dips,  with 
whose  burning  there  seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  antago 
nism  between  burning  grease  and  water.  The  whole 
house  had  a  dingy  and  tumble-down  appearance.  The 
party  was,  however,  in  for  it,  for  at  least  one  night, 
and  whether  the  accommodations  and  fare  were  good, 
bad,  or  indifferent,  the  part}7  of. returning  refugees  found 
"  they  would  have  to  endure  what  they  could  not 
cure." 

After  considerable  delajT  a  room  was  assigned  to 
each  of  the  gentlemen,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons 
were  conducted  to  what  was  said  to  be  the  best  room 
in  the  house — the  bridal  chamber.  There  being  no 
loose  baggage  belonging  to  the  party  except  the  valise 
containing  the  extra  clothing  which  Mrs.  Parsons  had 
brought  with  her,  this  was  ordered  to  the  room  which 
had  been  assigned  to  the  bride  and  groom.  As  soon 
as  a  servant  had  deposited  the  valise  in  the  room  and 


472  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

had  retired,  Mrs.  Parsons  opened  it,  and  took  there 
from  a  lot  of  clothing  which  she  laid  upon  a  divan. 
Just  then  the  bell  rang  for  supper,  and  Prof.  Parsons 
and  his  wife  left  the  room  and  closing  the  door  failed 
to  lock  it,  and  passed  down  to  the  dining-room. 

The  supper  table  was  not  more  attractive  than  that 
which  had  before  presented  itself,  and  was  therefore 
uninviting.  It  was  but  poorly  supplied  with  provision, 
and  even  what  it  did  cont?in  was  wretchedly  prepared. 
The  coffee  was  poor  bitter  stuff — the  bread  very  indif 
ferent,  and  cold — the  meat  poorly  prepared  and  indif 
ferent  at  best.  To  make  matters  still  worse  the  little 
that  was  at  all  palatable  was  served  by  a  dowdyish  set 
of  waiters.  Parsons  ate  but  little  and  his  wife  less. 
As  to  how  the  rest  of  the  company  fared  must  have 
been  decided  should  be  kept  a  secret,  for  whenever 
that  supper  was  afterwards  named,  a  gathered  frown 
was  all  the  reply  that  could  be  extorted  from  any  one 
of  them. 

With  the  reputation  that  Kentuckj'  had,  in  that  time 
long  gone,  for  the  sumptuous  living  of  its  citizens — the 
peculiar  excellence  in  the  style  of  cooking  at  the  hands 
of  the  Aunt  Dinah  experts — the  rich  provisions  which 
the  majority  of  its  people  made  in  supplying  their 
larders  with  everything  that  was  needed  to  make  the 
culinary  arrangements  perfect — the  usually  earnest 
efforts  of  the  hostelries  of  that  time  to  cater  to  the 
taste  of  travelers,  all  made  it  rather  remarkable  that  a 
village  inn  located  upon  the  margin  of  the  Blue  Grass 
region,  should  have  been  found,  in  which  there  was 
nothing  to  recommend  Kentucky  living,  Kentucky 
tidiness,  or  Kentuck}7  hotel-keeping. 

Upon  returning  to  her  room  from  supper,  Mrs.  Par- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  473 

sons  found  that  a  part  of  the  clothing  which  she  had 
left  upon  the  divan  had  disappeared.  This  fact  was 
reported  to  Prof.  Parsons  by  his  wife,  and  by  him  was 
communicated  to  his  company.  The  gentlemen  were 
all  considerably  exasperated  over  the  occurrence,  and 
felt  disposed  to  demand  that  the  clothing  should  be 
produced  or  that  Mrs.  Parsons  should  be  reimbursed 
for  her  loss.  But  the  young  bride,  hearing  that  the 
gentlemanly  company  of  escorts  were  talking  of  holding 
the  hotel  responsible  for  the  daring  piece  of  thievery, 
sent  for  Felix  Brunnell,  and  insisted  that,  for  her  sake, 
nothing  more  should  be  said  about  the  piece  of  pilfer 
ing  which  had  been  done,  nor  about  the  loss  which  she 
had  sustained.  The  goodness  of  her  nature  prompted 
her  to  uncomplainingly  suffer  loss,  rather  than  have 
either  hand  or  voice  used  to  bring  just  punishment 
upon  a  thievish  culprit. 

Having  spent  the  night,  all  repaired  to  the  breakfast 
table,  and  were  again  confronted  with  a  spread  of 
viands  scarcely  more  inviting  than  those  of  the  previous 
afternoon.  There  was  a  happy  riddance  of  the  sput 
tering  tallow  candles  ;  but,  with  this  exception,  there 
were  present  all  of  the  unlovely  paraphernalia  of  the 
previous  evening. 

As  much  of  that  meal  as  would  answer  the  imme 
diate  demands  of  a  company  which  had  a  long,  and 
somewhat  rough  ride  •  before  them,  was  consumed. 
There  was  no  dallying  here — there  was  nothing  to 
invite  it,  and  their  horses  were  ordered — bills  paid,  and 
an  order  issued  by  Brunnell  to  prepare  for  a  mount. 
This  order  was  cheerfully  obeyed  ;  and,  in  a  few 
minutes,  that  company  turned  away  from  the  hotel 
most  thoroughly  disgusted  with  it,  and  everything  con 
nected  therewith. 


474  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

If  that  village  had  been  a  modern  Sodom,  from  which 
Prof.  Parsons  had  been  ordered  to  flee  with  his  wife  to 
some  Blue  Grass  Zoar,  the  groom  would  have  been  in 
no  danger  of  losing  his  young  spouse,  because  of  her 
violating  the  interdict,  not  to  look  back.  No  pillar  of 
salt  would  have  been  found  afterward  in  that  section  of 
the  country,  as  a  monument  of  disobedience.  Mrs. 
Lunata  Parsons  had  seen  enough  of  that  village  ;  and, 
if  so  ordered,  would  not  have  turned  a  lingering  regret 
ful  look  thereon  had  it  been  lighting  up  the  firmament 
with  its  flames  in  the  distance  behind  her.  She  would 
have  sympathized  with  the  people,  for  sympathy  was  a 
potent  factor  in  her  nature,  but  a  village  that  could 
furnish  no  belter  accommodations  than  they  had  found 
there,  deserved  to  be  consigned  to  the  flames.  This 
wish  could  not  have  been  indulged  in,  except  that  a 
more  enterprising  people  might,  at  least,  put  up  a 
hotel  that  would  not  detract  from  the  reputation  which 
the  state  enjoyed,  of  being  fond  of  something  good  to 
eat,  as  well  as  fond  of  other  contributions  to  the  pleas 
ure  of  traveling. 

The  refreshing  sleep  of  the  night,  and  the  invigorating 
healthfulness  of  the  morning  air  seemed  to  have  filled 
every  rider  with  new  life  and  new  joy.  Gladsome 
brightness  seemed  to  play  on  every  face,  and  the  spirit 
of  hilarity  ruled  the  hour.  Pranks  were  indulged  in, 
jokes  were  told,  funny  incidents  recounted,  and  even  the 
disposition  to  try  the  mettle  of  their  different  horses, 
led  to  the  bantering  for  trial  races  over  a  short  run,  on 
a  level  piece  of  road.  Mrs.  Parsons  seemed  to  catch  the 
spirit  of  fun  and  frolic ;  and,  being  a  good  rider,  felt 
inclined  herself  to  try  the  speed  of  her  fine  saddle-horse. 
Accustomed  to  that  kind  of  traveling,  as  well  as  famil- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  475 

iar  with  that  kind  of  exercise,  she  was  something  of  an 
expert  in  exercising  as  an  equestrienne,  and  had 
learned  very  much  about  how  to  manage  the  horse  she 
might  he  riding.  Besides,  she  disliked,  when  well 
mounted,  to  cower  before  a  banter  for  a  race,  let  the 
banter  come  from  whom  it  might.  When  the  fleetness 
of  the  different  horses  in  the  party  was  being  discussed, 
as  judged  from  their  build,  it  was  evident  that  young 
Mrs.  Parsons  was  just  a  bit  opinionated  as  to  the  fleet- 
ness  of  the  horse  upon  which  she  was  mounted,  and 
equally  evident  that  she  would  like  to  try  his  speed  in 
a  sally  of  a  few  hundred  yards. 

Prof.  Parsons  felt  that  he  had  encountered  numerous 
difficulties — had  undergone  intense  mental  suffering, 
and  had  had  his  pride  humiliated  before  he  had  been 
able  to  secure  his  wife,  and  now  that  she  was  his — 
absolutely  and  unmistakably  his ;  he  intended,  by 
every  possible  means  in  his  power,  to  protect  her  from 
danger.  He  had  unlimited  confidence  in  her  excellent 
horsemanship,  and  had  faith  also  in  her  -ability  to 
manage  almost  any  horse  that  a  lad}'  would  venture 
to  ride  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  had  little  or  no 
confidence  in  her  power  to  foresee  accidents.  Beside 
these,  he  knew  the  recent  illness  through  which  she 
had  passed  must  necessarily  have  had  a  depleting 
effect  upon  her  strength ;  and,  for  these  reasons  he 
preferred  that  she  should  neither  give  to  any  one  of  the 
party  nor  accept  a  banter,  from  any  member  of  it,  for 
the  trial  of  the  speed  of  her  horse. 

It  became  evident  to  the  young  men  that  Parsons 
was  unwilling  to  have  his  bride  subjected'to  the  dan 
ger  of  putting  the  speed  of  her  horse  to  the  test ;  and, 
in  order  to  call  her  attention  from  the  playful  proposi- 


476  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

tion,  he  rode  up  close  to  her  side  and  putting  his  left 
hand  upon  the  pommel  of  her  saddle,  said  to  her,  that 
the  excitement  and  merry  making  of  the  morning  had 
almost  robbed  him  of  the  privilege  of  having  any  talk 
with  her. 

To  any  and  everything  he  had  to  say,  for  a  ride  of 
several  miles,  she  was  a  willing  listener,  and  there  was 
no  race  run. 

Nothing  of  special  note  occurred  during  the  first 
part  of  the  day's  travel  homeward.  Mrs.  Parsons 
appeared  to  be  in  the  very  best  spirits,  and  as  the 
p  irty  jogged  along  at  a  leisurely  gait,  she  put  in  her 
time,  first  with  one,  and  then  with  another  of  her 
courtly  escorts  ;  and,  by  her  gayety  and  good  humor 
helped  to  enliven  the  hours  that  would  otherwise  have 
been  passed,  by  some  of  them  at  least,  in  prosy 
silence.  Between  the  self-imposed  duty  of  trying  to 
keep  her  convoy  from  becoming  fatigued  and  lapsing 
into  a  spirit  of  ennui ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  show  to 
her  spouse  that  she  was  especially  happy  in  her  new 
relation  to  life,  liberty  and  the  unchallenged  right  to 
love  him,  kept  her  very  busy. 

But  one  stop  was  made  on  the  way.  An  acquaint 
ance  and  friend  of  Mrs.  Parsons — a  Mrs.  Wade,  who 
lived  hard  by  the  road  over  which  the  company  was 
traveling,  having  heard  of  the  elopement ;  and,  sup 
posing  the  party  would  pass  back  some  time  during 
the  day,  she  had  posted  a  sentinel  to  intercept  them, 
and  bring  them  to  her  house  for  a  rest.  When  the 
place  was  reached  where  the  sentinel  was  stationed,  he 
threw  up  his  danger  signal,  and  a  halt  was  ordered.  As 
soon  as  Mrs.  Wade's  message  was  delivered,  it  was  at 


TBE  HONEST  THIEF  .  477 

once  decided  to  accept  her  invitation,  and  Prof. 
Parsons,  his  wife,  and  the  body-guard  rode  up  to  the 
house  and  dismounted. 

Mrs.  Parsons  was  most  heartily  welcomed,  and  most 
cordially  congratulated  by  Mrs.  Wade,  who  had  herself 
but  very  recently  married,  while  Mr.  Wade,  having 
been  introduced  to  the  bride,  and  having  expressed 
good  wishes  and  a  safe  conduit  in  her  life-journey, 
then  turned  to  the  gentlemen  to  whom  he,  in  turn,  was 
introduced  by  Mrs.  Parsons,  and  took  them  in  charge. 

This  stop  and  the  rest  which  it  furnished  was  truly 
enjoyable.  Refreshments  were  brought  out,  and  an 
hour  or  more  was  consumed  in  partaking  of  the  offered 
delicacies  and  in  pleasant  conversation.  Very  many 
questions  were  asked  Mrs.  Parsons  about  the  history 
of  her  courtship — where  she  found  her  man — what  busi. 
ness  he  followed — how  long  she  had  known  him — 
where  he  was  from — why  she  had  been  compelled  to 
leave  home  to  marry,  together  with  divers  and  sundry 
other  questions  pertaining  to  the  same  subject.  Of 
course  these  interrogatories  were  all  propounded  to 
Mrs.  Parsons  in  a  quiet,  little  social  chat  between  her 
and  Mrs.  Wade,  while  Prof.  Parsons  and  his  cohort 
were  entertained  by  Mr.  Wade  under  the  shade  of  the 
trees  in  the  yard,  where  such  of  the  company  as 
smoked  regaled  themselves  upon  Mr.  Wade's  nice 
Havana  cigars. 

The  time  of  the  rest  with  these  good  people  and  the 
indulging  in  the  refreshments  which  were  spread  before 
them,  seemed  to  have  passed  so  quickly  that  the  quin 
tuple  body-guard  seemed  indisposed  to  quit  the  place 
for  a  resuming  of  their  journey  ;  and  not  until  they 
had  been  notified  by  Mrs.  Parsons  that  the  day 


478  WHAT    NEXT?    OR 

was  waning  did  they  seem  to  realize  that  such  was  the 
fact,  and  that  they  were  still  so  far  from  their  destina 
tion.  With  this  notification,  however,  all  were  soon 
ready  for  the  move,  and  while  the  young  gentlemen 
were  busying  themselves  with  the  horses,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wade  took  occasion  to  express  themselves  in  terms 
of  highest  commendation  over  the  good  taste  each  had 
evinced  in  making  a  choice,  and  especially  to  compli 
ment  them  for  their  pluck  in  flying  from  the  dictum  of 
a  cruel  injustice. 

"  Knowing  you  as  well  as  I  think  I  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Parsons  to  Mrs.  Wade,  "  it  could  hardly  be  expected 
that  I  would  imagine  you  to  be  capable  of  empty  flat 
tery.  Any  compliment,  therefore,  which  embraces 
Prof.  Parsons  as  well  as  myself,  I  regard  as  a  unitized 
approbation.  He  and  I  have  been  made  one,  and  any 
word  expressive  of  a  favorable  opinion  of  him  thrills 
me  with  more  delight  than  the  handsomest  eulogy 
would,  when  bestowed  alone  upon  me.  Every  word 
of  praise  spoken  concerning  him  tends  to  make 
me  feel  more  confident  in  the  wisdom  of  my  choice. 
Please,  therefore,  acccept  the  thanks  that  I  offer  you 
both  in  pride,  because  of  your  expressed  good  opinion 
of  my  husband,  and  believe  me,  kind  friends,  when  I 
assure  you,  in  no  spirit  of  sentimental  enthusiasm, 
that  he  is  brighter,  better,  and  more  worthy  than  any 
one  could  give  him  credit  for  being,  unless  it  be  some 
one  who  has  known  how  fully  he  represents  the  quali 
ties  I  have  named." 

The  horses  having  been  brought  to  the  front,  "Mount 
all !  "  shouted  Felix  Brunnell,  and  Mrs.  Lunata  Par 
sons  had  to  almost  tear  herself  away  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Wade,  in  obedience  to  the  call  of  the  Captain  in, 


THE  HONEST    THIEF.  479 

command.  Generous,  zealous  and  warm-hearted  good 
wishes  were  showered  upon  the  newly  married  pair,  as 
they  turned  their  faces  from  the  Wade  home  ;  and, 
even  as  the  party  rode  away,  loving  adieus  and  waving 
handkerchiefs  betokened  the  interest  which  was  felt  in 
the  welfare  of  two  people  who  had  not  yet  completed 
the  preface  to  their  life-history.  The  first  page  in  that 
preface,  as  yet  not  finished,  had  commenced  with  a 
bright  outlining  as  an  introduction,  and  the  aid  of  all 
good  spirits  had  been  invoked  to  help  to  make  the 
lives  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parsons  full  of  good  works. 

As  the  party  rode  away  from  the  residence  of  the 
Wades,  Mrs.  Parsons  lifted  her  handkerchief  above 
her  head  and  waved  it  in  a  parting  salute,  and  as  it 
fluttered  in  the  breeze,  the  Wades  caught  the  signal 
and  it  was  translated  as  meaning  she  wore  a  happy 
heart. 

On  and  still  on,  the  party  rode.  Xo  weariness 
seem  to  trouble  any  one  of  them  now.  They  were 
returning  from  a  triumphant  victory,  and  as  they  drew 
nearer  and  still  nearer  to  the  immediate  locality,  from 
which  on  the  previous  morning  they  had  fled,  and 
were  mounting  the  gently  ascending  slope  which  would 
bring  the-girlhood  home  of  Mrs.  Parsons  into  view,  a 
strange  set  of  sensations  seemed  to  have  captured  the 
entire  company.  A  few  rods  further  on,  and  nestled 
among  the  trees  in  the  distance,  stood  the  Rowdon 
mansion.  As  the  party  came  in  sight  of  this  home, 
a  shadow  was  thrown  athwart  the  face  of  the 
fair  young  bride,  and  tears  gathered  in  her  bright  eyes;, 
but,  thanks  to  her  resolution  !  no  tear-drop  deigned 
to  leave  an  eye,  and  her  roseate  cheek  remained  un 
stained  by  a  single  signal  of  sorrow.  It  was  but  a 
passing  pang — that  was  all. 


480  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

The  effect  that  the  sight  of  her  old  home  would  have 
upon  Mrs.  Parsons  was  watched  with  some  degree  of 
interest,  by  the  Professor  and  his  attendants,  and  when 
the  momentary  flush  of  excitement  had  been  discovered 
by  all,  the  ride  past  the  old  home  resembled  the  muffled 
tread  of  a  funeral  cortege,  and  there  was  not  one  of 
those  gallant  attendants  who  did  not  feel  like  doffing 
his  chapeau  and  riding  uncovered,  while  subdued  grief 
passed  the  home  about  which  crowded  so  many  hal 
lowed  associations.  Each  one  of  them  knew  it  had 
been  the  once  happy  home  of  her  girlhood,  and  each 
one  recognized  as  well,  that  Mrs.  Parsons  felt,  while 
passing  it,  that  she  was  now  estranged  from  all  her 
heart  once  held  dear. 

The  feeling  of  sadness  soon  subsided.  It  was  as 
transient  as  the  flitting  shadow  of  a  drifting  cloud;  and, 
as  soon  as  the  Rowdon  farm  had  been  passed,  all  again 
reflected  the  sunshine  of  gladness  that  had  been  wont 
to  play  about  the  features  of  her  whom  Prof.  Parsons 
then  claimed  as  all  his  own. 

Without  making  any  stop  in  the  town  through  which 
he  passed,  Prof.  Parsons  went  directly  to  the  home  of 
his  father,  and  having  presented  his  bride  to  the 
family,  said  to  them,  that  he  had  taken  her  from  a 
home  of  luxury  without  the  consent  of  her  father,  and 
that  the  ignorant  criticisms  of  the  world  might  say  he 
had  done  wrong  ;  but,  as  he  looked  at  the  matter,  with 
all  the  attendant  circumstances,  he  had  concluded  that 
the  world  could  not  drive  him  from  the  conviction  that 
he  had  shown  himself  to  be 

AN  HONEST  THIEF. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

'Then  come  the  wild  weather — come  sleet  or  come  snow. 
We  will  stand  by  each  other,  however  it  blow  : 
Oppression  and 'sickness,  and  sorrow  and  pain, 
Shall  be  to  our  true  love,  as  links  to  the  chain." 

— Longfellow. 

'HE  reception  which  Parsons  and  his  wife  met 
pith,  upon  reaching  the  home  of  his  father  was 
[i?  a  warm-hearted  and  genuine  household  greet 
ing.  The  whole  family  vied  with  each  other  as 
to  who  should  be  readiest  in  their  kindly  attentions. 
The  brothers  showed  a  sympathizing  appreciation  of 
the  new  sister,  and  were  courteously  and  particularly 
respectful  to  her.  The  mother  may  have  had  just 
a  bit  of  jealousy  at  the  thought  of  having  a  stranger 
to  come  into  the  family  and  engross  the  affections  of 
her  oldest  boy,  thinking,  possibly,  that  the  young 
bride  whom  he  had  brought  home  would  so  far  monop 
olize  his  attention  as  that  he  would  npglect  to  bestow 
upon  his  mother  his  usual  attention.  That  mother 
seemed  never  to  have  admitted  to  herself  that  there 
would,  perhaps,  come  a  time,  in  the  history  of  her 
oldest  boy,  when  there  would  be  awakened  in  his 
inmost  nature  an  affection  for,  and  an  interest  in  some 
fair  specimen  of  womanhood,  that  would  outweigh 
and  be  superior  to  every  tie  of  affection  he  had  ever 
known — yea,  more,  that  would  overbalance  the  bonds 
of  devotional  affection  which  he  may  have  had  for  all 
the  world  beside  her..  But,  notwithstanding  all  this, 
the  mother  showed  her  son's  wife  a  true  motherly  kind 
ness,  and  did  what  she  could,  in  helping  to  make  the 
daughter-in-law  feel  at  home. 

WHAT  NEXT' — 31. 


482  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

Prof.  Parsons'  father  seemed  to  regard  the  wife  of 
his  son  as  justly  entitled  to  the  love  and  affection  he 
always  bestowed  upon  his  own  children.  The  consid 
erate  kindness,  therefore,  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
accord  to  the  members  of  his  own  household  he  now 
showed  to  her,  who  had  become  engrafted  upon  the 
Parsons  stock. 

For  several  weeks  the  young  married  couple  remained 
domiciled  in  the  home  of  John's  father  as  headquarters, 
and  from  there  the}'  sallied  forth  every  now  and  then  to 
acknowledge  invitations  winch  were  sent  in  from  a 
number  of  the  good  people  of  the  county  to  make 
them  visits ;  and,  wherever  they  went,  they  had  a 
kind  of  ovation  shown  them. 

Because  of  the  general  characteristics  of  Mrs.  Lunata 
Parsons,  she  was  popular  wherever  she  was  known. 
Without  seeming,  in  any  way,  to  court  the  friendship 
of  those  with  whom  she  came  in  contact,  she  neverthe 
less  gained  the  admiration  and  good  will  of  all.  The 
natural  fascination  which  she  possessed  made  her  a 
favorite  wherever  she  was  known,  and  her  admirers 
were  only  limited  by  the  extent  of  her  acquaintances: 

People  of  mature  years — people  of  settled  habits, 
rather  than  those  of  Prof.  Parsons'  age,  regarded  him 
as  especial!}"  meritorious  because,  as  those  who  knew 
him  well,  were  accustomed  to  say  of  him  :  he  had  never 
sown  any  crop  of  wild  oats,  and  consequently  did  not 
have  to  waste  any  of  his  young  life  in  gathering  a 
profitless  harvest. 

Among  the  many  visits  which  Parsons  and  his  wife 
made  by  special  invitation,  the  one  in  which,  by  pre- 
arrangement,  they  met  the  especially  dear  friend  of  the 
new  wife,  Miss  Florence  Sumner,  was  a  striking 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  483 

exhibit  of  the  v^ry  strong  attachment  which  existed 
between  these  two  young  people.  To  describe  this 
meeting,  so  as  to  give  to  the  reader  a  faithful  picture 
thereof,  would  be  but  to  court  failure,  and  I  will  not 
attempt  it  in  full. 

Shortly  after  they  met,  a  decree  of  banishment  was 
issued  against  the  Professor  from  the  presence  of  the 
two  ladies — said  banishment  to  remain  in  force  for  the 
space  of  the  remainder  of  the  forenoon.  Parsons  sub 
mitted  without  protest,  and  Florence  and  her  recently 
wedded  friend  betook  themselves  to  the  seclusion  of 
one  of  the  chambers  in  the  up-stairs  department  of  the 
house,  and  talked,  and  laughed  and  cried  together  till 
both  hearts  had  unburdened  the  loads  of  sorrow  and 
gladness  which  they  had  longed  to  pour  into  each 
other's  ears. 

Poor  Florence  Sumner  !  The  history  of  what  passed 
between  her  and  Lunata  Parsons,  during  the  time  of 
the  Professor's  banishment,  must  forever  remain 
unwritten ;  but,  were  the  whole  of  it  transcribed, 
neither  of  the  ladies  would  lose  anything  in  the  esti 
mation  of  those  who  admire  loyalty  to  a  deep-seated 
and  pure  friendship.  The  love  that  had  existed 
between  these  two  women,  from  the  days  of  their 
childhood,  had  never  had  a  single  blight  cast  upon  its 
fulness  ;  and,  while  it  was  a  sad  reflection  to  her  that  her 
devoted  friend  Lunata  had  found  some  one  who  would 
so  completely  absorb  her  attention  as  to  allow  but  little 
time  to  her,  she  nevertheless  yielded  an  uncomplain 
ing  acquiescence  to  what  she  had  done,  and  warmly 
complimented  her  for  the  choice  she  had  made. 

From  Miss  Florence  Sumner,  Mrs.  Parsons  gathered 
all  the  information  she  desired  in  regard  to  what  had 


484  WHAT    NEXT?  OR 

transpired  in  her  home  neighborhood  since  she  left  it. 
She  had  previously  heard  something  of  the  manner  in 
which  her  father  had  accepted  the  inevitable,  when  he 
found  that  neither  ranting  nor  grumbling  would 
amount  to  anything.  But  from  Miss  Florence,  the 
bride  of  a  week  gathered  the  bulk  of  the  desired  news. 
Miss  Sumner  had  met  one  of  the  sisters  of  Mrs.  Par 
sons,  and  from  her  had  obtained  the  news  of  the 
family  from  the  time  the  fact  was  first  broken  to  her 
father,  about  her  being  missed,  up  to  almost  the  very 
time  when  Florence  had  started  from  home  to  meet 
and  congratulate  her  friends  upon  their  good  luck. 

Through  this  channel  Mrs.  Parsons  had  a  kind  of 
pictured  glimpse  of  the  confusion  and  uproarious  state 
of  affairs  that  existed  in  the  Rowdon  mansion  the 
morning  after  it  had  been  discovered  that  she  had 
eloped.  The  father,  upon  having  the  information 
broken  to  him  turned  pale  with  rage — the  aunt  turned 
pale  with  fright — the  children,  in  palor,  hid  themselves 
from  the  storm,  and  wondered  what  it  all  meant,  and 
the  servants  wore  the  most  innocent  and  blameless 
faces  imaginable. 

After  the  temporary  madness  of  Mr.  Rowdon  had 
subsided,  to  some  extent,  he  showed  that  a  fatherly 
heart  still  beat  in  anxious  solicitude  for  his  daughter. 
He  remembered  that  she  had  been  in  poor  health  for 
some  weeks,  and  therefore  expressed  some  fear  that 
such  a  jaunt,  as  she  had  undertaken,  would  end  in  her 
death.  He  was  so  severely  riled  over  the  loss  of  his 
housekeeper  that  he  roundly  berated  everybody  that  he 
imagined  had  had  anything  to  do  with  aiding  or  abet 
ting  her  in  her  elopement.  He  applied  some  very  ugly 
epithets  to  those  who  went  with  the  refugees,  not  yet 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  485 

knowing  who  they  were.  In  short,  he  abused  every 
body  who  was,  as  he  thought  in  any  way,  directly  or 
indirectly,  connected  with  what  he  termed  treasonably 
doing  violence  to  the  peace  and  quiet  of  his  house 
hold. 

When  Miss  Sumner  informed  Prof  Parsons  that  Mr. 
Rowdon  had  said  some  very  harsh  and  unwarranted 
things  about  him,  the  information  did  not  disturb  him 
in  the  least.  He  told  Miss  Florence  that  anything  he 
might  now  say,  would  be  considered  justifiable.  He 
had  been  robbed — his  house  had  been  plundered — it 
had  been  despoiled  of  its  brightest  jewel,  and  the  loss 
was  irreparable.  "  Let  him  talk.  If  it  were  possible 
that  my  position  and  his  were  reversed,  and  I  should 
have  been  made  the  loser  to  the  extent  he  has  been,  I 
think  I  would  shout  out  my  disapprobation,  over  my 
loss,  just  as  loud  as  he  has  done.  Let  him  talk  ;  he 
is  mad  now,  and  his  ill  temper  may,  for  ought  I  know, 
run  through  a  cycle  of  years.  Be  it  so  ;  I  will  never 
murmur  over  any  complaint  he  may  urge  against  me, 
so  long  as  he  says  nothing  against  my  moral  character, 
and  will  try  .to  prove  to  him  that  I  am  not  only  worthy 
of  his  confidence,  but  worthy  of  his  daughter  as 
well." 

"  So  far  as  what  you  have  said  about  his  becoming 
alienated  from  his  neighbors,  Miss  Summer,  I  can  say 
to  you  that  no  one,  under  similar  circumstances,  could 
more  deeply  deplore  this  fact  than  I  do.  The  long 
standing  friendship  that  has  existed  between  his 
family  and  your  father's,  was  far  too  sacred  to  be 
destroyed  by  a  mere  supposition,  and  yet  I  can  see  no 
way  by  which  that  unfounded  prejudice  can  be 
removed.  To  show  you  how  very  seriously  my  wife 


486  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

considered  the  matter  of  bringing  about  a  .severance  of 
the  ties  of  neighborly  friendship,  I  can  say,  that  while 
she  would  have  been  delighted  to  have  had  your  com- 
pany  on  her  runaway  trip,  she  determined  to  forego 
that  pleasure  rather  than  create  an  open  rupture 
between  her  father  and  \rour  family.  As  the  affair 
eventuated,  however,  it  would  have  been  just  as  well 
that  you  should  have  gone,  for  your  going  could  not 
have  made  matters  any  worse,  than  did  his  imagined 
grievance. 

"  Well,"  said  Prof.  Parsons,  still  addressing  himself 
to  Miss  Sumner,  "  since  we  are  upon  the  subject  of 
neighborhood  news,  can  you  not  tell  us  something 
about  the  Watsons  and  about  Aurelius  Munson?" 

''Yes,  I  think  a  can,"  replied  Miss  Sumner.  "I 
am  not  at  all  intimate  with  the  Watson  family  ;  still, 
I  have  learned  enough  to  satisfy  me  that  no  people  in 
our  whole  community  were  more  completely  surprised 
over  your  marriage,  and  the  manner  in  which  you 
managed  to  get  away,  than  were  the  Watsons.  From 
what  I  heard  some  weeks  ago,  I  had  supposed  that 
the  Watson  family  would  be  about  the  only  persons  in 
the  community  who  would  sympathize  with  Mr.  Row- 
don  ;  but,  very  recent  information  has  corrected  this 
opinion.  I  now  understand  that  there  are  no  people 
in  the  vicinity  who  are  more  heartily  rejoicing  over 
your  triumph  than  are  the  Watsons,  and  I  learn  that 
Miss  Ida  Watson  is  especially  outspoken  in  her  glad 
commendation  'of  the  choice  your  wife  has  made.  By 
the  way,  I  learn  also,  that,  while  nearly  all  of  that 
family,  from  some  cause,  had  become  very  much 
prejudiced  against  you,  that  Miss  Ida  never  wras,  but 
justified  you  in  every  case  where  there  was  a  manifes- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  487 

tation  of  family  displeasure,  and  that  when  the  crisis 
came  that  necessitated  your  removal  from  their  home 
as  a  boarding-house,  Miss  Ida  had  the  courage  to  even 
condemn  her  father  for  the  course  he  had  pursued,  and 
to  tell  him  to  his  face,  that  the  day  was  not  far  dis 
tant  when  he  would  discover  that  he  had  made  a  big 
mistake." 

"Do  you  know  anything,  Miss  Sumner,  about  Alf. 
Watson,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Watsons  ?  I  am  just  a 
little  interested  in  him.  In  the  early  part  of  my  court 
ship  he  made  himself  quite  conspicuous  as  an 
employed  emissary  of  Mr.  Rowdon's  to  keep  watch  of 
my  tracks,  and  to  make  reports  at  stated  periods. 
What  has  become  of  him  ?" 

"Really,  Prof.  Parsons,"  said  Miss  Sumner,  "I 
hardly  know  how  to  answer  your  question.  Alf.  Watson 
is  a  man  whom  I  know  when  I  see  him,  but  about 
whose  whereabouts  I  care  as  little  as  I  do  about  any 
man  you  could  name.  He  is  regarded,  I  think,  as 
having  but  little  reputation  for  uprightness — no  educa 
tion,  and  a  minimum  allowance  of  common  sense.  I 
understand  he  has  left  the  neighborhood,  but  to 
what  point  of  the  compass  he  has  emigrated  I  am 
unable  to  say.  I  have  heard  some  of  the  young  men 
in  this  vicinity  laughing  over  his  withdrawing  himself 
from  the  spy  service  of  Mr.  Rowdon  in  consequence  of 
some  holes  and  pins  which  he  found  in  a  board  lhat 
was  attached  to  a  tree  which  stood  in  a  ravine  not  a 
great  way  from  where  his  father  lives.  What  these 
young  men  meant,  in  what  they  said,  I  do  not  know, 
as  I  thought  too  little  of  Alf.  Watson  to  ask  what  their 
remarks  meant. " 


488  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

"I  suppose,  Miss  Sumner,"  said  Parsons,  "that 
the  excitement  in  your  neighborhood,  incident  to  the 
bit  of  thievery  I  have  perpetrated,  is  subsiding?" 

"To  some  extent,  it  is,"  replied  Miss  Sumner,  "and 
but  for  the  secret  rejoicing  that  is  indulged  in,  by 
both  old  and  young,  I  think  the  talk  about  the  affair 
would  have  ceased.  If  it  had  been  a  case  about  which 
the  people  of  the  community  could  have  expressed 
themselves  freely  and  fearlessly,  it  would  have  rocked 
itself  to  rest  before  now  ;  but,  it  is  like  the  suppres 
sion  of  laughter,  the  more  it  is  suppressed,  the  longer 
it  will  rattle  and  struggle  for  outlet.  No  one  wanted  to 
incur  the  displeasure  of  Mr.  Rowdon,  and  hence  secret 
criticisms  were  indulged  in,  long  beyond  the  time 
which  a  free  discussion  would  have  demanded. 

"Well,  you  have  not  told  me  anything  about  Mr. 
Munson,"  said  Parsons.  "  What  about  him  ?  When  I 
last  heard  from  him,  he  had  entered  upon  the  very 
difficult  task  of  convert-making  through  the  efficacy  of 
epistolary  correspondence.  I  am  disposed  to  think 
that  his  effort  in  attempting  to  work  out  by  letter  what 
he  could  not  accomplish  by  personal  appeals,  was 
really  a  worse  mistake  than  the  running  advertisement 
which  he  so  long  published  to  the  community  by  keep 
ing  his  tri-weekh-  horse-hitching  a  prominent  frontis 
piece  to  the  Rowdon  home." 

To  this  question,  and  its  appended  speech,  Miss 
Sumner  laughed  heartily,  and  after  her  risibility  had 
been  quelled,  she  answered  the  Professor's  question, 
saying :  "I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Munson,  to  have  any 
conversation  with  him  since  your  marriage,  and  am 
rather  glad  that  I  have  not  met  him.  I  understand 
he  feels  exceedingly  sore  under  the  result  of  your  vie- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  489 

tory.  I  can  not  say  that  he  is  sore  because  of  his 
defeat ;  for,  to  my  own  personal  knowledge,  his  defeat 
has  been  assured  ever  since  he  first  intimated  that  he 
wanted  to  be  considered  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  your 
wife.  I  understand  he  now  disclaims  having  ever 
had  any  idea  of  courting  Lunata — that  his  visits  to 
her  were  only  for  the  purpose  of  pastime  ;  but,  try  as 
he  might,  Professor,  the  tri-weekly  hitching  of  that 
horse  to  that  self  same  post  will  boldly  and  defiantly 
contradict  any  statement  he  may  make  in  regard  to  his 
visits  being  only  those  of  friendship.  The  fact  is,  if 
he  were  to  make  such  a  statement  to  me,  I  would  hunt 
up  a  copy  of  Esop's  Fables,  and  point  out  for  him 
what  that  philosopher  had  to  say  about  'the  fox  and 
the  grapes.'  The  time  of  Aurelius  Munson,  when  he 
is  in  company,  as  I  have  understood,  is  divided 
between  trying  to  explain  away  the  general  belief  that 
he  had  ever  addressed  your  wife,  with  a  view  to  mar 
riage,  and  a  persistent  effort  to  show  ;  that,  in  marry 
ing  you,  'she  had  driven  her  ducks  to  an  exceedingly 
bad  market.'  He  can  find,  he  says,  and  count  them 
on  his  fingers,  a  great  number  of  flaws  in  your  general 
make  up.  He  summarizes  about  thus :  First,  you 
are  poor.  Second,  you  have  not  got  anything.  Third, 
your  family  is  poor.  Fourth,  you  have  no  rich  relatives, 
and  fifth,  you  have  no  home.  Munson  assumes  quite 
an  air  of  importance  while  counting  out  these  five 
specific  reasons  why  he  thinks  your  wife,  as  he  says, 
'might  have  gone  further  and  have  done  better.'  ' 

"Should  you  happen  to  be  thrown  in  his  company, 
within  the  next  few  weeks,  fMiss  Sumner,  I  would 
like  to  have  you  call  him  out  upon  his  bill  of  excep 
tions;  and,  wrhen  he  has  filed  them  in  your  presence,  I 


490  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 

would  like  to  have  you  inform  him  that  you  heard  me 
plead  guilty  to  the  whole  five  charges,  and  then  get 
him  to  explain  the  difference  hetween  tweedledum  and 
tweedledee.  Tell  him  furthermore  that  you  heard 
me  state,  that,  though  I  might  be  ever  so  poor,  I 
was  at  least  rich  enough  in  something  which  he  did 
not  possess,  to  win  a  prize  about  which  he  was  giving 
himself  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble." 

"I  Presume,  Prof.  Parsons."  replied  Miss  Summer, 
"that  he  is  not  alone  in  his  embitterecHeelings.  Some 
of  his  relations,  I  understand,  have  indulged  in  some 
very  ugly  criticisms  with  reference  to  the  course  your 
wife  pursued,  in  running  off  to  be  married.  I  think 
they  are  almost  as  much  piqued  over  his  defeat  as 
is  Aurelius  himself." 

"All  this  amounts  to  nothing,  Miss  Summer.  Any 
thing  thatMunson  or  his  relatives  may  say  about  me  or 
my  wife,  will  be 'regarded  by  all  sensible  people,  as 
only  the  empty  vaporings  of  boastful  ignorance.  What 
they  predict  with  reference  to  my  future,  will  be  but 
an  advertisement  of  their  own  chagrin  and  disappointed 
ambition." 

This  conversation  took  place  between  Miss  Florence 
Summer  and  Prof.  Parsons,  while  Mrs.  Parsons  was 
enjoying  a  quiet  little  sul>  rosa  confab  in  an  adjoining 
room,  with  Mrs.  Nilson — the  lady  of  whose  hospitality 
the  bride  and  groom  and  Miss  Sumnei?  were  made  the 
recipients.  When  the  quartette — consisting  of  the 
three  women  and  Prof.  Parsons,  came  together  again, 
there  was  a  general  summing  up,  by  Mrs.  Nilson  and 
Miss  Summer,  of  all  that  the  gossipers  had  had  to  say, 
in  regard  to  the  runaway  match  and  marriage  of  the 
the  two  people  who  were  the  listeners  to  that  pre- 


THE  HONEST  THIEF  491 

sentation  of  what  the  outside  world  was  saying 
about  their  particular  case,  and  of  the  expressions  of 
praise  and  blame  of  stolen  brides  generally. 

The  visit  to  Mrs.  Nilson  being  about  the  last  in  the 
list  of  invitations  tendered  and  accepted  by  the  young 
married  couple,  they  returned  to  the  home  of  Mr.  Par 
sons,  Sr. 

The  excitement  and  jollity  incident  to  a  round  of 
visiting  having  ended,  the  young  Professor  and  his 
wife  bethought  them  that  marrying  meant  more  than  a 
mere  living,  and  that  it  was  about  time  he  was  seeking 
some  position  where  he  could  feel  free  because  of  his 
working  to  win  an  independent  livelihood.  Accordingly 
on  the  following  morning  he  went  to  the  neighboring 
town,  and  had  been  in  the  place  but  a  short  time  when 
a  wealthy  gentleman  from  an  adjoining  county,  having 
learned  that  his  services  as  a  teacher  could  be  secured, 
at  once  closed  a  contract  with  him,  to  take  charge  of 
the  school  in  his  neighborhood  without  consulting 
either  trustees  or  patrons,  and  agreed  to  take  the  Pro 
fessor  and  his  wife  into  his  own  family  as  boarders. 

During  the  following  week  Parsons  and  his  wife  took 
up  their  residence  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Burton,  and  on 
the  Monday  succeeding,  he  began  his  work  as  a  bread 
winner,  at  a  very  fair  salary. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  marriage  of  Prof.  Parsons 
to  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Rowdon  till  the  father  became 
reconciled  to  the  choice  which  his  daughter  had  made, 
and  invited  the  pair  home.  It  had  been  predicted  by 
many,  that,  owing  to  the  stubbornness  of  his  nature, 
he  would  never  become  friendly  with  Parsons.  He 
might,  manj"  thought,  forgive  his  daughter,  but  that 
he  would  be  irreconcilable  so  far  as  his  ever  becoming 


492  WHAT  NEXT?    OR 

friendly  with  Parsons  was  concerned.  But  in  this, 
there  was  a  manifest  error  of  human  judgment.  Mr. 
Rowdon,  notwithstanding  his  mistake  in  trying  to 
mold  the  mind  and  affections  of  his  daughter  into  his 
way  of  thinking,  was,  nevertheles,  devoted  to  her. 
She  had  been  both  an  affectionate  and  dutiful  child, 
and  the  alienation  which  existed  between  her  father 
and  her  husband  had  come  to  be  a  source  of  deep  and 
continuous  grief  to  her.  That  she  should  have  been 
overjoyed  at  the  reconciliation  was  something  to  be 
expected.  After  this,  she  felt  that  she  could  love  her 
father  as  she  had  loved  him  in  the  days  of  yore,  and 
that  what  she  returned  to  him  would,  in  no  way,  lessen 
the  love  and  admiration  which  she  had  for  her 
husband. 

It  was  not  long  till  Mr.  Rowdon  had  discovered  his 
mistake,  in  denying  to  his  daughter  the  privilege  of 
choosing  her  own  life  compainion,  and,  while  he  hoped 
he  might  succeed,  he  still  lacked  faith  in  his  ability  to 
accumulate  money,  but  was  still  satisfied,  because  he 
recognized  it  as  a  fact  that  the  young  Professor  was  the 
choice  of  the  daughter  whom  he  loved. 

Parsons  abandoned  the  school  which  he  undertook 
in  a  short  time  after  his  marriage,  on  account  of  the  ill- 
health  of  his  wife,  and  remained  comparatively  inac 
tive  until  his  wife  regained  her  health.  The  two  then 
moved  to  another  part  of  the  .State  and  began  an 
earnest  life-work.  They  were  successful.  Their  enter 
prise  prospered  in  their  hands;  and,  as  is  usually  the 
case  with  honest  effort — patient  and  persevering  indus 
try,  coupled  with  suavity  of  manner — their  popularity 
was  largely  commensurate  with  their  prosperity. 


TBE  HONEST  THIEF  493 

Kind  reader,  the  scenes  and  incidents,  recorded  so 
far  in  this  volume,  fill  up  a  comparatively  brief  period 
in  the  history  of  two  individuals,  and  occurred  a  half 
century  ago.  Nearly  two  generations  have  been  swept 
from  the  stage*  of  human  action,  since  John  Parsons 
and  Lunata  Rowdon  had  their  love  entanglements,  and 
those  entanglements,  which  had  their  beginning  and 
their  ending  so  long  ago,  serve  even  now  to  show,  that 
what  was  true  then  must  be  true  now,  because,  what 
occurred  in  their  case  was,  and  is,  in  harmony  with  the 
eternal  principles  of  right.  Genuine  worth  and  unim 
peachable  honesty,  coupled  with  acquired,  as  well  as 
natural  brightness,  make  the  possessor  thereof  the 
impersonation  of  intrinsic  wealth — wealth  which  can 
not  take  to  itself  wings  and  fly  away — wealth  which 
can  not  perish  with  the  using — wealth  which  can  not 
be  destroyed  by  the  mishaps  of  speculation  or  be 
corroded  by  age — wealth  which  can  not  die  ;  for,  quit 
ting  the  earth,  it  will  shine  with  the  passing  eons,  in 
brightness  upon  the  heights  of  everlasting  light. 

I  have  made  myself  acquainted,  to  a  large  extent, 
with  the  events  that  transpired  in  the  early  part  of  the 
lives  of  the  two  people  who  are  in  the  role  of  hero  and 
heroine  to  this  volume.  In  weaving  my  story  I  have 
made  true  history  the  warp,  and  romance  the  woof 
thereof.  I  have  woven  it,  not  so  much  to  please  the 
critical  reader,  as  for  self-gratification.  That  the  faults 
which  it  contains  are  too  numerous,  I  am  candid 
enough  to  admit,  but  that  my  motive,  in  writing  it, 
was  anything  else  than  good,  I  would  deny.  There  is 
no  desire  on  my  part  to  plead  that,  under  ordinary  cir 
cumstances,  insubordination  to  parental  authority  could 
be  justified,  but  at  the  same  time  I  desire,  in  the  pre- 


494  WHAT    NEXT?   OB 

sentation  of  an  extraordinary  case,  to  show  that  there 
is  justification  in  rebelling  against  the  cruel  edicts  of 
avaricious  parents,  who  for  the  sake  of  property  or 
money,  would  sacrifice  thereto  the  peace  and  happiness 
of  their  daughters. 

Unfortunately,  the  trend  of  sentiment  among  the 
young  people  of  the  present  day  is,  that  rebellion 
against  parental  advice  is  even  commendable,  as  indi 
cating  a  spirit  of  independence.  Another  unfortunate 
circumstance  in  connection  with  the  marriages  of  the 
present  day,  is  that  so  many  of  these  assumed  obliga 
tions  are  robbed  of  their  sacredness  by  making  them 
mere  matters  of  bargain  and  sale,  taking  it  for  granted 
that  money  will  cover  a  greater  multitude  of  faults  than 
charity.  Again;  there  is  entirely  too  great  a  preva 
lence  of  lorming  matrimonial  alliances,  without  weigh 
ing  the  responsibility  and  obligations  that  connect 
themselves  with  the  changed  relations  of  life.  Out  of 
the  mere  sham  of  trying  to  have  the  affections  consort 
with  wealth,  and  the  inconsiderate  action  which  leads 
to  ''marriage  in  haste  and  repentance  at  leisure,"  has 
grown  the  vast  amount  of  work  which  is  being  done 
by  our  courts  of  judicature  in  untying  connubial  knots 
which  had  been  tied  for  parties  who  looked  upon  mar 
riage  as  a  very  trivial  affair — a  something  which  could 
be  assumed  today  and  cast  off  tomorrow.  In  fact,  so 
many  marriages  are  speedily  followed  by  divorces, 
and  speedy  re-marriages  that  it  seems  to  have 
cast  a  blur  upon  the  sacred  rite.  It  is  a  sad 
phillipic  upon  the  history  of  our  people  to  say  that 
such  a  condition  of  affairs  is  growing  in  our  country. 
But  may  it  not  be  contemplated  as  a  serious  fact,  never 
theless — a  race  dishonoring  fact — one  that  proclaims 


THE  HONEST    T.ilEF.  495 

the  solemn  truth,  that  the  first  steps  are  being  taken 
that  lead  in  the  direction  of  the  accursed  doctrine  of 
free  love-ism? 

It  is  not  my  intention,  however,  to  drift  into  expres 
sions  of  censoriousness  over  what  may  appear  to  me  to 
be  a  deteriorating  condition  of  human  society.  Ani 
madversions  upon  my  part,  in  regard  to  such  degener 
ating  influences,  would  have  but  little  weight  in 
staying  its  march.  If  checked  at  all,  the  power  of  both 
press  and  pulpit  must  open  their  batteries  against  the 
growing  evil. 

As  has  already  been  stated,  I  familiarized  myself 
with  the  lives  of  Prof.  Parsons  and  his  wife  previous  to 
their  marriage,  and  have  looked  in  upon  those  lives 
since,  that  I  might  be  able  to  present  at  least  one 
isolated  case  in  which  justification  could  be  plead 
for  direct  and  daring  disobedience  to  parental  authority. 
As  to  whether  I  have  succeeded  or  not,  be  you  the 
judge.  But,  be  your  judgement  what  it  may,  I  pre 
sume  that  if  John  Parsons  had  been  put  upon  the 
witness  stand,  on  any  day  of  the  half  century  of  days 
that  have  passed  since  the  events  recorded  in  this 
book  began,  and  had  been  questioned  in  regard 
to  the  moral  quality  of  his  action,  in  marrying  his  wife 
as  he  did,  he  would  have  stoutly  averred  that  the  de 
file  into  which  he  was  driven,  brought  about  a 
question  of  ownership,  looked  at  from  a  moral  stand 
point,  which  robbed  his  act  of  the  quality  of  a  felony, 
and  christened  him 

Ax  HONEST  THIEF. 


APPENDIX. 


Having  given  an  epitome  of  the  early  life  of  Mr. 
John  Parsons  and  his  wife  Mrs.  Lunata  Parsons.  I  feel 
that  this  story  would  be  incomplete  without  men 
tioning  something  of  their  history  that  stretched 
along  through  the  half  century  that  has  elapsed  since 
they  first  started  in  their  matrimonial  career. 

Through  many  years  of  unremitting  toil  in  the  voca 
tion  to  which  Prof.  Parsons  consecrated  himself  as  his 
life-work,  and  of  which  he  made  a  success  ;  his  popu 
larity  and  that  of  his  wife  grew  to.  be  commensurate 
with  the  largest  part  of  our  great  and  growing  Republic. 
In  fact  it  is  said  that  go  where  you  will,  and  in  every 
section  of  our  Union,  you  will  find  families  in  which 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Parsons  is  a  kind  of  household 
word. 

The  weight  of  years  finally  made  it  indispensable 
for  them  to  retire  from  the  field  of  active  work  and 
relinquish  their  labor  of  love.  But  up  to  the  present 
writing,  although  they  have  grown  old,  they  are 
both  hale  and  heart}',  and  seem  to  have  the  promise  of 
some  years  yet  to  come.  While  they  linger  upon 
the  shores  of  time,  however,  and  while  their  heads  are 
blossoming  for  the  fruitage  of  eternity,  they  are  not 
the  only  ones  in  whom,  and  on  whom,  the  finger  of 
time  has  written  its  changes.  Since  the  night  of  that 
long  and  tiresome  ride,  about  which  they  have  told 
me,  in  quest  of  some  one  to  tie  a  knot  which  would 
make  them  one,  the  grim  reaper  has  not  been  idle. 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  497 

Mr.  Henry  RoAvdon  lived  to  be  quite  old,  and  of  all 
the  members  of  his  family,  there  was  no  one  of  them 
for  whom  he  cherished  a  tenderer  affection  than  he  did 
for  his  daughter  Lunata;  and  to  none  of  his  grand 
children  did  he  seem  to  be  more  attached  than  he  did 
to  those  of  Prof.  Parsons. 

Of  those  who  were  the  dramatis  personae  in  the 
little  life  comedy,  in  which  Prof.  Parsons  and  Miss 
Lunata  Rowdon  were  the  stars  in  the  cast,  and  of 
whose  performance  this  book  is  the  history  ;  the  major 
ity  have  long  since  retired  behind  the  screen,  beyond 
which  human  eyes  peer  not.  Those  who  were  then 
young  have  grown  old,  and  their  tramp,  tramp,  along 
the  shores  of  time,  show,  by  their  slow  and  measured 
tread,  that  they,  too,  will  soon  find  rest  in  the  bivouac 
of  the  dead. 

John  Parsons'  plighted  vows,  although  made  in  the 
long,  long  ago,  I  suppose  have  been  most  religiously 
kept  even  up  the  present  writing.  He  still  claims,  I 
understand,  that  other  women  may  have  awakened  to 
a  very  high  degree,  his  admiration,  but  that  his  wife 
is  the  only  woman  he  ever  really  loved.  He  claims 
she  was  the  idol  of  his  youthful  soul — the  admiration 
of  his  ripened  manhood,  and  is  the  solace  and  comfort 
of  his  declining  years.  I  verily  believe  this  is  the 
living  sentiment  of  his  soul ;  for,  a  mutual  friend 
havng  learned  that  I  was  writing  something  of  his 
history,  brought  me  Mrs.  Parsons'  album  and  I  copied 
the  following  little  poem  written  therein  by  the  gray- 
haired  lover: 

WHAT  NEXT— 33. 


498  WHAT  NEXT?  OR 


OUR    LIFE    PERIODS. 

1S50. 

When  we  were  young — in  life's  springtime, 
Thou  gav'st  thy  heart  and  hand  to  me; 
And  I,  'mid  clouds  or  glad  sunshine, 
Declared  I'd  e'er  be  true  to  thee. 
Now  my  remembrance  still  holds  dear, 
That  time,  when  youthful  ardor  wove 
Its  brightest  hopes,  and  happy  cheer 
And  love  and  gladdess  with  us  throve. 
Those  days,  in  mem'ry  still  enshrined 
When  flowers  in  our  springtime  grew, 
We  passed  delighted — intertwined — 
With  hearts  aglow,  both  me  and  you. 

1865. 

But,  by  and  by,  life's  summer  came, 
With  flowers  bright  still  'round  us  spread- 
No  quenching  had  subdued  the  flame 
AVhich  burned  in  hearts  so  truly  wed. 
The  cherry,  joyous  summer  time. 
When  everything  with  brightning  glow 
Made  life's  true  living,  mine  and  thine, 
With  constant  rapture  overflow. 
What  though  distresses,  now  and  then 
Left  mem'ries  dark  with  you  and  me — 
There  was  no  time  when  you  could  ken, 
This  heart  was  not  e'er  true  to  thee 

1880. 

Life's  autum  came,  and  in  its  train, 
The  fruitage  of  our  labor  won  ; 
And,  like  the  sheaves  of  ripened  grain, 
It  showed  the  work  which  we  had  done. 
Our  hands  were  neither  sore  nor  scarred — 
Love's  labor  never  gave  us  pain. 
We  toiled  along  without  regard 
To  wear  and  tear  or  mental  strain  ; 
But  life  was  neither  brown  nor  sere 
For  love  was  still  both  fresh  and  free ; 
It  gave  to  each  sweet  words  of  cheer, 
While  I  could  say,  "I  still  love  thee." 


THE  HONEST  THIEF.  499 

1896. 

The  wintry  blasts  now  'round  us  strew 
Their  icy  trophies  at  our  feet, 
And  while  we  older,  older  grow 
Our  winter  is  with  love  replete. 
This  is  the  time  to  ponder  o'er    . 
The  devious  path  that  we  have  trod, 
And  Him  who  leads  us  still  adore, 
Yes,  still  adore  while  on  we  plod. 
Ah  !  this  is  e'en  the  royal  time 
To  turn,  in  retrospect,  and  see 
The  rugged  paths  we've  had  to  climb, 
With  love  the  guide  for  you  and  me. 

1897. 

Our  springtime  has  long,  long  been  o'er, 
Its  leaves  of  brightness  all  are  gone — 
We'll  see  the  flowers  never  more, 
In  summer  flower-time  'round  us  thrown. 
The  joy%  which  these  bright  seasons  gave, 
With  all  their  wealth  of  beauty  rare, 
We'll  on  our  mem'ries  them  engrave 
For  you  and  me  to  treasure  there. 
The  autumn's  past — 'tis  winter  now 
From  work  on  earth  w'll  soon  be  free; 
But  ere  we're  called  away,  I  vow. 
When  Heaven  is  reached — I'll  still  love  thee. 

1898. 

And  as  the  heavenly  eons  go, 

Unmeasured  by  the  flight  of  years, 

We'll  never  more  of  sorrow  know 

Nor  have  our  eyes  bedimmed  by  tears. 

In  regions  of  eternal  day, 

Where  grief  and  death  are  known  no  more, 

Where  life,  renewed,  knows  no  decay — 

When  once  we've  reached  that  glorious  shore, 

In  Paradise,  'mid  endless  joy 

Sublimer  love  will  God  adore 

Sublimer  praise  our  time  employ. 

Forever  and  forevermore. 


What  Next? 

OR, 

THE  HONEST  THIEF. 

By  J.  T.  PATTERSON. 

A  combination  of  fact  and  fancy,  portraying  life 
in  Kentucky  fifty  years  ago.  Its  author  is  favor 
ably  known  to  thousands  in  this  and  other  States 
as  the  honored  President  for  many  years  of 
Hamilton  Female  College.  Every  woman  who 
was  once  under  the  tutelage,  or  whose  mother, 
sister  or  daughter  has  been  helped  by  this  great 
educator  will  read  it  with  delight. 
Cloth,  500  Pages,  5%x8,  PRICE  $1.00 

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